“Only Zuluhed commands me, reptile,” the one-legged orc muttered. “And he’s far from here.” His hand slipped free from the pouch. At the same time the magical force that Rhonin had felt abruptly faded away.
The wizard had heard many rumors as to how the Horde could possibly keep such a magnificent creature under their control, but none matched what he had just witnessed. Clearly some artifact or device of tremendous strength lay in that pouch. Did Nekros even truly understand the power he wielded? With such at his beck and call, he could have ruled the Horde himself!
“We need to hunt down the others,” the elder warrior turned to a guard standing by the entranceway. “Where’d you find the guard’s body?”
“Fifth level, third tunnel.”
Nekros’s brow furrowed. “Above us?” He studied Rhonin as if looking over a prime piece of beef. “Wizard’s work! Start searching everything from fifth level up, then—leave no tunnel alone! Somehow they’ve come from above!” A slow grin spread across his outlandish, tusked features. “Maybe not magic after all! Torgus saw the gryphons! That’s it! The rest of ’em came after Deathwing drove Torgus off!”
“Deathwing—Deathwing s-serves no one—but himself!” Alexstrasza suddenly pronounced, eyes opening wide. She sounded almost fearful, for which Rhonin could not blame her. Who did not fear the black demon?
“But he works now with the humans,” insisted her captor. “Torgus saw him!” His hand slapped the pouch. “Well, maybe we’ll be ready for him, too!”
Now Rhonin could not help but stare at the pouch and its contents, which, judging by the vague shape, seemed to be a medallion or disk. What power could it have that Nekros believed would even work against the armored behemoth?
“It’s dragons you all want. . . .” Once more Nekros faced the wizard. “And it’s dragons you’ll get . . . but you and the dark one won’t be happy long, human!” He waved toward the exit. “Take him away!”
“Kill him?” grunted one of the guards in what seemed hopeful tones.
“Not yet! More questions later for this one . . . maybe! You know where to put him! I’ll come right after to make certain that even his magic won’t help him!”
The two massive orcs holding onto Rhonin pulled him forward with such vigorous force that he thought that they would wrench his arms from the shoulder sockets. Through somewhat blurred vision, he caught a glimpse of Nekros turning to another orc.
“Double the work! Get the wagons ready! I’ll deal with the queen! I want everything prepared!”
Nekros passed from Rhonin’s field of vision—and another figure entered.
The goblin that the orc had called Kryll winked at Rhonin, as if both shared a secret. When the wizard opened his mouth, the malevolent little figure shook his oversized head and smiled. In his hands, the goblin clutched something tight, something that drew the human’s attention.
Kryll slid one hand back just long enough for Rhonin to see what he carried.
Deathwing’s medallion.
And as the guards dragged him out of the commander’s chamber, it came to the worn mage that he now knew how Deathwing had garnered so much information about Grim Batol. He also knew that, whatever Nekros planned, the orc, like Rhonin, did exactly as the black dragon wanted.
Although at home in the forests and hills, Vereesa had to admit that, when it came to the underworld, she could not tell one tunnel from another. Her innate sense of direction seemed to fail her—either that or the fact that she had to continually duck distracted her too much. Even though trolls used these tunnels from time to time, most had been hewed out by dwarves in the days when the region around Grim Batol had served as part of a complex mining community. That meant that Rom, Gimmel, and even Falstad had little difficulty navigating them, but the tall elf had to walk bent over much of the time. Her back and legs ached, but she gritted her teeth, unwilling to show any sign of weakness among these hardy warriors. After all, Vereesa had been the one who had insisted on coming here in the first place.
Yet she finally had to ask, “Are we almost near?”
“Soon, very soon,” replied Rom. Unfortunately, he had been saying that for some time now.
“This entrance,” Falstad mused. “Where’s it again?”
“The tunnel comes out in what used to be a transport point for the gold we mined. Ye may even see a few old tracks, if the orcs haven’t melted them all down for weaponry.”
“And in this way we can get inside?”
“Aye, ye can follow back along the old path even if the tracks’re gone. They’ve some guards there, though, so it won’t be easy.”
Vereesa thought this over. “You mentioned dragons, too. How far above?”
“Not dragons in the sky, Lady Vereesa, but ones on the ground. That’s where it gets tricky, ye might say.”
“On the ground?” snorted Falstad.
“Aye, ones with damaged wings or too untrusted to let fly. Should be two on this side of the mountain.”
“On the ground . . .” the dwarf from the Aerie muttered. “Be a different sort of battle . . .”
Rom suddenly paused, pointing ahead. “There ’tis, Lady Vereesa! The opening!”
The ranger squinted but even with her exceptional night vision, she could not make out the supposed opening.
Falstad apparently did. “Awful small. Be a tight fit.”
“Aye, too tight for orcs and they think too tight for us, but there’s a trick to it.”
Still unable to see anything, Vereesa had to satisfy herself with following the dwarves. Only when they had nearly reached what seemed a dead end did she begin to notice a little bit of light filtering in from above. Stepping closer, the frustrated elf noticed a slit barely big enough to fit her sword through, much less her body.
She glanced down at the leader of the hill dwarves. “A trick to it, you say?”
“Aye! The trick is that ye must move these rocks here, carefully set by us, in order to open the gap big enough, but ye can’t reach them from the outside! From there it looks to be all one rock, and it’d take the orcs powerful more time than they’d like to do the job!”
“They know you are underground, though, do they not?”
Rom’s expression grew dour. “Aye, but with the dragons about, they fear little from us. The way ye must go to get inside is a dangerous one. That must be evident to ye. It frustrates us to be so close and yet be unable to rid ourselves of these cursed invaders. . . .”
For some reason she could not fathom, Vereesa sensed that the dwarven leader had not told her everything. What he had said might be true to some extent, but for some other reason his people had not made much use of this route. Had something happened in the past to make them shy away from it, or was it truly that dangerous out there?
If the latter, did the elf really want to take the risk?
She had already committed herself. If not for Rhonin, then for whatever she might do to help end this interminable war—although Vereesa still held out hope that somehow she might find the wizard alive.
“We should get started. Is there a certain pattern needed when removing the rocks from their positions?”
Rom blinked. “Lady elf, ye must wait until dark! Any sooner and ye will be sighted, sure as I stand before ye!”
“But we cannot wait that long!” Vereesa had no idea how many hours had passed since she and Falstad had been captured by the trolls, but surely only a few hours at most.
“’Tis only an hour and a little more, Lady Vereesa! Surely that’s worth ye life!”
That little of a wait? The ranger eyed Falstad.
“You were out for a very long time,” he replied to her unspoken question. “For a while, I thought you dead.”
The elf tried to calm herself down. “Very well. We can wait until then.”
“Good!” The leader of the hill dwarves clapped his hands together. “That’ll give us time to eat and rest!”