The Sundering by Richard A. Knaak Read Free Book Online

winged behemoth would have trampled right over it without pause.
    He expected Sargeras to punish Illidan for wasting his time, but instead, the lord of the Legion responded with obvious interest. Explain…
    Without preamble, the renegade sorcerer said, “This is the key. This has the power. This is the Dragon Soul.”
    Now Mannoroth and the others paid much more attention. They had all witnessed its fury, felt its overwhelming power. With it, the black dragon had slaughtered demons and night elves alike by the hundreds. He had churned up the earth for miles around and even cast out the other dragons when they had sought to stop him.
    All this from so humble-looking a piece.
    “You have seen it, even from where you wait,” Illidan went on. “You’ve sensed its glorious might and you rightly hunger for it to be yours.”
    Yes…
    “It could slay thousands simply through your will. It could sweep clear a land of all resisting life…all life, period.”
    Yes…
    “But you didn’t consider that it might be the source of power you need to reach this world, did you?”
    Sargeras did not answer, which was answer enough. Mannoroth grunted. The night elf was too clever for his own good. The Burning Legion coveted the artifact, but it was still in the possession of the black dragon. Eventually, the demons would have the strength and resources to hunt the beast, but not while they had Illidan’s people to still slaughter.
    It has the power, the lord of the Legion at last declared. It could open the way…if it was ours…
    “I have the means by which to track its location, to know where the dragon’s hidden it.”
    Another telling pause, then, the black beast has shielded himself well… Sargeras responded. Even from me…
    Illidan nodded, the smile on his face one that, had it been on anyone else’s, the lord of the Legion would surely have ripped it—and every bit of flesh and sinew attached—off even from the beyond.
    “But he’s not shielded from me…because I know how to track him…with this.”
    The night elf gestured and in his left hand there suddenly appeared an almost triangular, ebony plate the size of his head. Mannoroth leaned forward. At first he believed it a small piece of armor from one of the world’s defenders, but then he saw that it was not metal.
    A dragon’s scale.
    The black dragon’s scale.
    “A very tiny bit, easily missed by so large a beast,” Illidan remarked, turning it over. “He was struck several times in the combat with the red. I knew there had to be at least one broken scale…and so I rode out and searched for it. Once I found what I wanted, I then continued on to here.”
    Mannoroth glared. Was there no end to the sorcerer’s audacity? Unable to keep silent any longer, he growled, “Why? Why not bring it back to your friends? Your brother?”
    The night elf looked over his shoulder. “Because I deserve power, reward.”
    The demon expected more, but Illidan was finished. The sorcerer turned back to the portal.
    “I need unrestricted access to the Well’s energies. The dragon is mighty, especially with the artifact. But, with the Well to fuel me, I’ll find him no matter where he is!”
    “And then you’ll just take it from him, mortal?” The tusked demon sneered. “Or will he simply give it to you?”
    “I’ll relieve the beast of it one way or another,” Illidan casually replied, still staring into the raging abyss. “And bring it here.”
    Mannoroth started to laugh—then cut off as a pressure tightened around his throat. It vanished almost immediately after, but the message was clear. Whatever the winged demon’s own thoughts, the lord of the Legion was interested in the miscreant’s words.
    You would bring the dragon’s creation to me, Sargeras declared to Illidan.
    “Yes.”
    And you will be rewarded greatly for your efforts, should you succeed.
    The night elf bowed his head. “Nothing would please me more than to stand before you with the Dragon Soul