“Yet we never saw it in the air and the landscape, while hilly, would also force the dragon out in the open if it tried to crawl along.”

Broll considered. “Maybe there’s something to what Lucan said after all. If the dragon’s—”

Tyrande stared after him. “Where is Lucan?”

The druid spun around. The human was no longer where he had just left him.

For a moment the night elves looked at one another as if thinking the same… that Lucan had once more drifted off into what Broll suspected was part of the Emerald Dream. Then, a brief clatter of rocks beyond them told the pair of a simpler truth. Lucan had merely stepped away.

Or rather… he was climbing up the side of the hill at a pace impressive considering his exhaustion.

“Lucan!” the druid called as cautiously as he could. “Lucan!”

But the cartographer ignored him. Broll finally went in pursuit, Tyrande only a step behind. This near a possible dragon’s lair, they could ill afford being given away.

Lucan pushed himself to the top of the hill. Broll managed to grab him by the ankle just before the human would have started down the other side. The druid pulled himself up next to the other.

“Have you gone mad—?” Broll thought for a moment that he already had his answer, for Lucan stared at him as if what remained of his sense had abandoned him once more.

“It’s down there,” Lucan finally murmured. He pointed at one of a handful of caves marking the area below. “That one with the sharp point to the entrance. That’s where the dragon is.”

“And how do you know this?”

In answer, Lucan could only shrug.

Tyrande joined the two males. “Did I hear him correctly? The dragon is down there?”

“He’s sure about that, if nothing else.” A sound caught Broll’s attention. He eyed the path from which they had come. “There is something or someone behind us …”

“Never mind! Lucan is moving again!”

Broll turned to see that with the druid no longer holding him and both night elves distracted, the man was indeed heading down the other side of the hill. Aware that they left some pursuer on their trail, Broll nevertheless leapt down after Lucan.

He managed to catch up with the cartographer near the base.

Spinning Lucan to face him, Broll was confronted by the same almost blank look.

“Do you wish to die?” he asked the human.

“No …” Lucan seemed to finally register where he was. His face grew even paler. “I just… I just went where I had to.”

Giving up the hope of making sense of his companion, Broll started to tug Lucan back to Tyrande, who was just behind them.

A low, mournful reptilian hiss escaped the cave.

The three stood frozen. The high priestess took a step toward the cave.

“There must be another entrance!” she muttered. “That’s far too small for a dragon.”

Broll grimaced at what he was thinking. “Then… it’s a good entrance for us!”

Tyrande nodded. Lucan swallowed and said nothing.

Concerned for the human, who was certainly no experienced fighter like Varian Wrynn, Broll said, “There are some large rocks over there. You can hide among them. If we don’t return in roughly an hour’s time, keep heading on the path we’re taking. I think I do know vaguely where we are and it’s closer to Ashenvale than I thought.”

To both night elves’ surprise, Lucan steeled himself and replied, “No. I come with you. You helped me… and I brought you here.”

There was no time to discuss it. Broll nodded. Tyrande pulled a dagger from her belt and handed it to Lucan. He took it, though he clearly understood its uselessness against a dragon. Still, the weapon gave some comfort… and it was probable that the human knew that he could also use it on himself if it came down to it.

Broll sought to take the lead, but Tyrande had already moved ahead. She looked almost eager to confront the dragon, as if that would somehow bring Malfurion back to her.

Or bring her to him if they both die? the druid wondered with some sudden worry.

Tyrande held the glaive ready to throw as she entered the mouth. The cave was dark, but while that might have bothered Lucan, it did not concern either night elf. Still, the high priestess cast a tiny glow, perhaps for the human’s sake or perhaps to attract the dragon’s attention.

“Stay close,” Broll reminded the cartographer. He did not doubt that Lucan intended to, but with the man’s habit of wandering, it was good to remind him.

The cave twisted from one side to the next and grew narrower as they entered. It was now barely large enough for two of them to walk side by side. That a dragon lurked somewhere ahead meant that there had to be another entrance. That was something to remember, if this one became blocked to them.

Of course, that other entrance would also enable the dragon to give chase.

The cave grew cooler. Black dragons tended to prefer more warm abodes, which added merit to Lucan’s suggestion that Broll had been mistaken. Yet the druid and the high priestess had both seen an ebony creature. If not a black dragon, then why would one of any other color masquerade as such?

Broll abruptly recalled something that their current dire circumstances had pushed to the back of his memory. Once, in the past, he had faced the dire daughter of the great black dragon Deathwing. Onyxia had been a monster herself, but what Broll now remembered was that she had been able to transform to other forms… including much smaller ones.

He touched Tyrande on the shoulder. The high priestess silently turned.

“Beware,” Broll whispered. “These tunnels may be large enough for the dragon after all.”

Her eyes narrowed. Tyrande Whisperwind, too, was aware of this particular draconic ability, even more so than Broll, who did not know of her ties to the red dragon Korialstrasz. “Yes,” she muttered. “We must be very wary …”

There came a sound, a slight movement, from deeper within.

The three immediately tensed. Broll kept Lucan behind Tyrande and him. The high priestess pushed forward before Broll could keep her back.

Only a few yards farther they came to a larger chamber riddled with gaps large enough to mean passages. The chamber was perhaps ten times the druid’s height, and the rough edges revealed paths — some of them precarious — that could be used to reach many of the possible passages.

But more important… among the stalagmites that dotted the chamber floor, Broll saw prints. He knelt down to investigate them.

“They look to be from one of our own,” the druid commented to Tyrande, “or maybe one of Lucan’s. They’re on top of one another, too. Whoever they belong to has tread this area often.”

“I feel a draft,” she commented. She lowered the glaive. “There’s at least one other entrance nearby.”

“Do we search for it?”

“Which way do the footprints most head?”

He studied them closer, finally pointing to his right. “That way …”

As Broll rose, Lucan blinked, then started to speak to Tyrande.

Sensing this, the high priestess slipped her free hand to his wrist and gently squeezed.

“The direction of the air current matches up with what you say,” the high priestess remarked, releasing the human’s wrist. “We can either follow them or—”

Tyrande cut off, her expression suddenly focused.

The light of Elune bathed the chamber.

And in its light was revealed a figure invisible to them until now, but whom Lucan had evidently sensed with that peculiar talent of his. Tyrande had realized what he was about to say and silenced him in order to surprise the watcher.

He was clad in a long, hooded garment that resembled a combination of a mage’s outfit and that of some human priests.

The figure stood a few inches taller than Broll, who was not short himself at seven feet, but was more lithe of form. His hands were akin to those of the night elves, but though his face also had some similarity to theirs, it was of a much paler cast, like no elven offshoot either knew.