They were soon out of his sight. Krasus continued to force himself to stay conscious. If not for the fact that he was of the redflight, the guardians of life, he might have already welcomed the relief of death. As it was, despite the inevitable, Krasus sought some miracle. Not for himself, but for all the others.

And, most of all, for Rhonln and Iridi, whom surely Deathwing's consort intended to capture next.

Barely had the roar faded away when another chilling sound filled the cavern.

This time, it was laughter.

Rhonin and Iridi turned in the direction from which it had come to see the tall, slim lady in black. The scars on the one side of her face were evident to them even through the veil.

"You're a dragon," Rhonin commented.

Iridi showed no surprise at this: after what had happened to Krasus and Kalec, that this female was more than she appeared made perfect sense.

"Very good, Rhonin Redhair," the dragon in mortal guise purred. "And do you know what dragon?"

The wizard shrugged, his demeanor quite calm considering that he stood amidst a chaotic battle of dwarves, skardyn, dragonspawn, drakonid, and raptors. "You have that admirable disposition and manner of dark dress that means you must belong to Deathwing's flight." He pursed his lips in thought, then nodded. "And since you're not the rabid dog or his two worst pups, I'd hazard by your grand posturing that you must be one of his prime bitches...."

The lady in black scowled, taken aback by the human's daring affront. Iridi gripped the naaru staff tight, awaiting any signal from Rhonin. The draenei instinctively kept herself between Zzeraku and the malevolent figure.

Flee! Zzeraku warned the priestess. Flee! She is monstrous! Forget me!

I won't! Iridi found Zzeraku's concern for her heartening, even under the circumstances.

The disfigured dragon recalled herself. Once more acting as if empress of all she surveyed, she replied, "I am Sinestra, first and greatest of the Earth-Warder's consorts...."

"That would explain your lovely complexion. Mating with Deathwing must have literally set your heart on fire."

"Is it wise to speak to her so?" the draenei whispered.

"He speaks so because he is a fool confident in his master, are you not, Rhonin? You think Korialstrasz—pardon me—Krasus— will save you. But your master is dead, human, his life essence a contribution to the birthing of a new era!"

The priestess caught just a hint of anger at the corner of the wizard's mouth, but Rhonin quickly smothered it. "Oh, yes! The great family plot! Let's rebuild or recreate or create anew a wondrous flight in our image—or something close enough to it— that will—dare I say it?—take over the world!”

"You remind me of my Nefarian...arrogant, blind, and doomed."

Sinestra gestured.

A shockwave rushed over all there, including the black dragon's own minions. Not one creature was left standing, so powerful was the invisible wave.

Not one creature...save Rhonin. His face was pale, yes, and his legs wobbled, but he still stood.

"If you think...me the same impetuous upstart...who came here to deal with your mate," he rasped. "You're...you're only half-right."

His gaze shifted to the cerulean cube. It suddenly glowed.

But Sinestra only chuckled. "Very good! You know Balacgos's Bane...your master taught you well!"

Sweat dripped down Rhonin's forehead. Through gritted teeth, he answered, "He's not... my master... he's my... friend."

The cube flared bright...and then melted in on itself, leaving a blue puddle from which sinister vapors of a like color arose.

Sinestra's eyes narrowed to slits. This time, Rhonin could not keep from being thrown to the ground.

"A powerful, valiant attempt...but only an attempt." She pointed at the melted Bane... and it formed again. "The secret of it is mine, as are so many other secrets."

The raptor leader had by this time managed to reach its feet. With a hiss, it leapt with claws bared and maw wide open at Sinestra.

With a contemptuous glance, the black lady pointed at the raptor.

The ground rose up beneath the leaping reptile, catching it. Molten earth engulfed the raptor leader. The reptile's scaled hide blistered horribly, then burned away, quickly followed by the muscles and sinew beneath. The raptor had no time to shriek. By the time the creature collapsed on the chamber floor, it did so as a loose pile of still-smoldering, scorched bones.

"The right temperament," Sinestra clinically commented. "But lacking in so much else." She returned her attention to Rhonin and Iridi.

But the priestess was no longer there. For the first time, Sinestra showed some puzzlement. Her ire immediately focused on Rhonin, who was struggling to rise. "Where is the draenei? Where is she?" The wizard managed a grin. "I don't know...."

Zendarin fell back, gasping. He was finished at last, finished with the final step toward his never having to hunger again. It had cost him much of the staff's power, but for that he would have that which would gain him more than he could desire in a hundred lifetimes.

He leaned over the pit. "You understand me, don't you?" "Yes..." came the rumbling voice. The blood elf smiled. "It is time." "Yes..." A dark form began to rise toward Zendarin. "It is time..."

"You will obey my will in all things," the blood elf went on. "You will—"

A monstrous sound arose from the pit. It was not a simple roar, as had erupted more than once during Zendarin's efforts, but ratherlaughter... laughter that reminded him too much of the dark lady's.

"I do not obey you...." Dargonax replied with mockery also akin to hers. "You are little more than the dirt beneath my feet...."

The blood elf could not believe his ears. Enraged, he shouted, "You've no choice but to obey me! I have made absolute certainty of that—"

The murky shape stretched above the pit, expanding, growing, until it filled all of Zendarin's view. The head of a huge, amethyst dragon coalesced.

"You have made certain of nothing, but that you are a fool...." Dargonax declared.

Zendarin threw his will into the stolen staff, hoping it had enough power left.

Jaws open, Dargonax lunged.

The blood elf vanished.

The gargantuan dragon immediately halted his lunge. He did not look angered or disappointed, but instead, amused.

Dargonax suddenly looked up at the ceiling. His long, pointed ears twitched as if he listened.

"Yes...I come, my mother...I come..."

And once more, the behemoth laughed.

His arm was broken—he thanked the small favor that it was the one minus a hand—and he had somehow gotten far more lost than any dwarf ever should have underground in any cavern. Rom could swear that the tunnels shifted of their own whim and always to keep him from the ones leading back up. He wanted to go back up because, in one passage, he had heard the cries of some of his people. They were dying, Rom believed, and all he could do was keep walking in circles.

But he had to keep trying.

He stumbled into another passage that looked exactly like the passage before and the one before that and so on and so on. The veteran fighter swore under his breath, even his mounting frustration not enough to make him alert any possible foes to his nearby presence.

Was that a mistake, though? Perhaps if he shouted his head off, he would finally get some action.

Rom snorted. He would also end up perishing without doing his comrades any bit of good.

When the other dwarves had been attacked, Rom had not abandoned them, as they likely thought. Rather, he had been twice struck hard, the first enough to shatter the bone in his arm and the second knocking off his helmet and battering his head. He had then stumbled, dazed, into one of the crevices that had opened up. There, Rom had lain as one of the dead for hours.