The odds were not good, but Rom had made the best of it. "Won't be any worse than tryin' to take Grim Batol during the war! Least there ain't an army of orcs to watch for, either...."

"No, but there are skardyn, dragonspawn, and drakonid," his second, Grenda, had remarked with her usual practicality.

That had deterred them no more than anything else had. All the dwarves serving under Rom had journeyed here expecting to lay down their lives if necessary.

Grim Batol was every bit as dire as Vereesa recalled it. With a shiver, she wished that Rhonin had come with her. However, in addition to his other duties, he was the only one of the two who could be with the children. They were being taken care of by Jalla, a stout midwife with six children of her own who was both like grandmother and second mother to the twins. However, she had no manner by which to protect them.

Ipray we will all see one another after this, she thought to her husband and sons. But, if not, she would do all that she could to see that the menace of her cousin never threatened her family again.

Too many of her family had been slain in the previous wars, and of her sister, Sylvanas, Vereesa had learned an even more monstrous fate. Those losses had been terrible enough, but then had come the rise of the blood elves. So many of her kind had turned from their traditions to that dark path, the withdrawals they had suffered after the Sunwell's destruction too much for them to bear. Vereesa recalled her own withdrawals and wondered if she would have joined them had not Rhonin been there to help her recuperate. And much later, when the feeling of loss had occasionally tried to return, the twins had also helped merely by being there for her to love.

She had known Zendarin well when they had both been younger. He had always been ambitious, but in those days that ambition had been an honest one. He had wanted to rise up among his people, no matter how hard it was for any individual to move beyond their caste. As one who had also to a point not fit into the regimented mold of high elven society, Vereesa could appreciate his desire.

But when he had turned to the way of the blood elf, all his ambition had focused on only one thing... to gather for himself more and more magic, both to satiate his insatiable appetite and to give him the might to take even more from others. Vereesa heardscattered word of his unseemly deeds, yet had not considered him her problem. As a blood elf, he was part of the Horde and the Alliance was always fighting the Horde. She had expected that sooner or later he would overstep himself and some wizard or paladin would put an end to him.

But then Zendarin had chosen her children as his next prize. Both Rhonin and she knew that there would be something special about them, the rare product of high elf and wizard. One could sense the potential just when standing near them. Even just after their birth, her husband had said something that she now realized was more prophetic than even he had thought.

"I hope they grow up," the red-haired spellcaster had muttered during one of his more sullen moods. "I hope they grow up...."

A simple comment, but complex in its fears.

As she pondered it again, Vereesa readied an arrow. Her sword, a parting gift from her husband, hung sheathed at her side.

"The eyes or just under the base of the jaw... at the top of the throat," Rom had told her. "You want to kill a dragonspawn fast or even hope to drop a drakonid, those're your best choices, my lady."

The ranger studied the area carefully. In some ways, her eyes were at least as good in the dark as those of the dwarves. However, the black-scaled hides of the drakonid and dragonspawn made them more murky targets. The skardyn were easier for her, but she considered them a waste of her arrows.

Yet, it was a skardyn she first sighted. The foul creature squatted upon a large rock, sniffing the air like a dog while it chewed on some shadowy piece of meat... hopefully nothing more than a hapless lizard.

Vereesa pulled the bowstring tight, then released it.

A shaft blossomed from the skardyn's chest. The scaly dwarf spit out its tidbit and fell face first off the rock. The sound of its body striking below was muted, as the ranger had expected.

In the dark, several dwarven forms shifted position, ever moving closer to the nearest of the cave entrances. Near Vereesa, the draenei waited patiently. The ranger had told Iridi to stay with her all times, following her lead wherever possible. Iridi had never been to Grim Batol before, whereas the high elf had some recollection... and more than a few unmentloned nightmares.

Another skardyn appeared on a ridge higher up. Vereesa swore under her breath. The skardyn were not what she wanted to slay, but, again, she had no choice. Worse, yet, the creature watched from a point that made it very difficult even for the skilled ranger to fire a perfect shot.

The draenei abruptly put a hand on her shoulder, then whispered, "Let me try."

Before Vereesa could stop her, the priestess had slipped ahead. Vereesa watched as Iridi made her way toward where the guard stood. Although the draenei tried to be cautious, the ranger was surprised that the skardyn did not see her and raise the alarm. Indeed, at one point, the creature gazed directly at her, but seemed unconcerned.

Some priesthood trick, the high elf decided. She had heard of priests from other orders who could make themselves either not be noticed or noticed as a threat by those they wished to reach.

Iridi climbed up next to the oddly-oblivious guard. She struck the skardyn a blow on the neck with the edge of her hand.

The sentinel collapsed without a sound.

From the rocks to the ranger's right, Rom gave the short signal to move farther in. The entrance beckoned, yet Vereesa was aware from the dwarf how many times they had gotten this far, only to have some catastrophe strike them.

However, slowly but surely they neared their goal. The dwarves took care of another skardyn and even a dragonspawn without mishap.

We are coming for you, Krasus, Vereesa thought to herself. We are coming for you. Then, her mood more grim, she added, and I am coming for you, Zendarin....

The ground shook.

A gasp escaped the ranger. She clutched at the nearest rock. The area around her rose up and down as if a massive earthquake were sweeping over the land.

Yet, Grim Batol itself was as still as death.

The dwarves struggled for balance. Although well used to such tremblings, this one was so violent that even they could not in many instances keep on their feet.

She saw no sign of Rom, but did spot Grenda. The female dwarf struggled toward her.

A fissure opened up between them. Fierce gases burst forth, so hot that both fighters had to retreat.

From out of the fissure—from out of other fissures ripping open around them—grotesque figures crawled out.

Figures made of burning rock.

A monstrous gold aura surrounded them. They moved like puppets toward wherever dwarves struggled. Their shapes were crudely humanoid and lacked any features, the latter of which made them more unnerving.

"Undead!" Grenda shouted.

"They are not Scourge," she returned. "They are some animated monstrosity!"

They were a menace such as no one there had expected to confront. Whoever was master or mistress of the mount now had terrible power indeed to raise up such horrific creatures.

One dwarf swung at the nearest of the fiery figures. The head of his ax melted, and it was all the fighter could do to keep from burning his hand as he released the weapon.

The rocky creature's molten arm moved with astounding swiftness, enveloping the head of the dwarf. The dwarf's scream and suffering were mercifully short, but the sight of his headless torso dropping sent chills through the defenders.