“-. .-“

  It took Emerentius four more days to finish his scan before returning. He did so late one evening, on foot for the last mile of distance, hidden from sight and hearing by the spirits – though not quite perfectly yet – until he was sitting among us during evening meal. Everyone was quite adequately startled, even the elves, which worked quite well to give steam to those in our company who were skeptical of his nature as a dragon when they’d never seen him transform. They thought it more likely he was some manner of assassin. Which wasn’t even wrong, it just wasn’t all he was.

  “I haven’t, strictly speaking, found the titan facility,” he reported. “But I have identified an area where the spirit of the earth meddles to cause my geological scan to give false positives. A normal black dragon would never have noticed it, but the Light made up the difference. A personal foray through the region, plus some very wide applications of extremely weak earthquakes, allowed me to narrow down the location of a sizable hollow structure. It is farther west than you assumed it to be, but roughly the same latitude.”

  “Excellent work.” It really was. “Let’s plan this out then.”

  With the detailed information that only a black dragon could produce without actually disturbing the earth any, the dwarves spent the following day brainstorming a plan of action.

  “It might take more labour than we hoped,” Brann summarized that following evening. “But the prospectors recommend beginning at the very edge of this false signal area, or whatever it is. The tunneling will take longer, but will make it easier to stay concealed once the first subterranean cavern has been breached into, and we can then camp entirely below ground, out of sight of anyone else. It’ll also ensure any initial accidents with the blasting powder and all else will not be close enough to the structure to damage it.”

  That was ultimately the biggest thing to worry about. In the future, the damage caused by the dwarves when unearthing Uldaman was what freed the troggs from their already failing stasis, causing terrible woes for the dwarves thereafter, and the nearly total eradication of the gnomes.

  With the plan settled, we had one last good night before packing up camp and marching as efficiently as we could to the new location.

  The first couple of days were rather inauspicious, as we were battered by strong winds that kicked up a constant wall of dust and sand in our faces. We had to trudge forward in a line, keeping our noses and mouths covered, and those of our horses and gryphons too. It was a miserable trek, and talk was more trouble than it was worth.

  I would have had my spirits counter nature in our immediate surroundings, but the black dragons in the Lethlor Ravine had also become a bit more active so I had the eight instead spread out behind us, producing a mirage of the desert without us.

  “They are training,’ Emerentius explained to me. “Flight in hostile air conditions does not come as naturally to the Earth dragons compared to others. There is also a mindset to cull the weak and faint of heart.”

  Of course there was.

  It was on the fourth day that the weather got back to what passed for normal in the Badlands. I still had the spirits shroud us in a mirage, but we could march properly and talk freely again.

  It was then that Sylvanas approached me again, while on the march. “I’m surprised you were so open about your dragon’s true nature, did I mention that?”

  “No. But I’m sure that information would have spread regardless after your arrival, and for good reason.”

  “It wouldn’t have, actually.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is not my place to meddle in foreign relations other than my homeland’s.” She… probably lied, the dwarves were better acquainted with the Farstrider elves than humans by far, practically hosted a permanent delegation for their whole history. In contrast, the human nations never opened permanent embassies for whatever reason. “Also, Vereesa has verified all sides of the story in Alterac by now, and she keeps me up to date.”

  Transmission stones really were ubiquitous, in the upper strata. I’ll remember that in case I can’t contact Richard directly. “I suppose you have questions for me.”

  “Many, but I am willing to wait for her to find me answers instead of bothering you, oh Prophet.” Since she wasn’t saying it in a malicious manner, I was going to take that as the humor it was intended. “Though with all things, there is an exception.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Krasus turned out to be a dragon, and there is no indication from the capital that even the King was aware. Do you know of any others?”

  “Some by their elven face, some by their name, none by their mortal alias unfortunately. Maybe…” Carefully visualizing what I recalled from my past life, I told Brumean to detach from the rest and had him form small, blurry seemings of the named red dragons I remembered having an elvish form. Ceristrasz, Cielstrasza, Crimsastrasza, Aquinastrasz, Koristrasza, there were actually more than I thought when I Reflected on the matter. I could do a little bit of that on the move now.

  I didn’t think any of them but one was actually insinuated in High Elf society, other than the late Krasus, but maybe… There was a she-elf, wasn’t there? In the future, after the Cataclysm. Perched on a tower outside the entrance to Grim Batol to spy on the twilight dragonflight that wouldn’t come to be, now that I’d killed Syntharia a decade before she would have had access to Outland and its nether drakes. Which also didn’t exist yet, and perhaps never will.

  Eryna, I think was her name?

  Lirastrasza was another one. And possibly Axtroz too, though I only knew him in his form as the drake that was the first defender of the Grim Batol pass in the Wetlands, forty years from now. There were a bunch of others with a high elven visage, but like the rest I’d only seen them on the Dragon Isles.

  I gave their names and likeness to Sylvanas anyway, when we stopped at noon, which she very carefully sketched and wrote down in a scroll. Not sure how it would help, the games back in my other life had a very narrow range of facial features to mix and match, but that was no longer my problem.

  “Just try not to cause a diplomatic incident?” I very seriously requested when she was finished. “I already told them we can handle our own affairs, and they seem to be complying more often than not.”

  “So sure of that, are you?”

  “Veritistrasz could have waited to reveal himself until we found Uldaman, or not reveal himself to us at all.” I’d thought about the timing quite a bit over the past few days. “Instead, he came clean now, and left before he could get such sensitive information. No offense, but that’s a bigger show of good faith than anything you’ve given me.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “I see,” the Ranger-Captain said lightly. “I’ll be sure to keep my eyes open for any occasion of sufficient duress to remedy this.”

  “You’ll have plenty chances in Grim Batol, if you must insist on joining us in battle. You don’t have to, though.”

  “Yet we shall do so regardless. Not much of an observation mission if we quit right before the most important part, is it?”

  “I shall consider my duty of non-maleficence sufficiently well discharged then.”

  “What a curious way with words you have. I’ll remember it.”

  We had to pause or conversation while we broke camp again, but Sylvanas sought me out one more time just before we resumed the march. “There’s one thing I don’t understand – why dragons as world guardians? If they already had the Keepers for that, it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Odyn, as you saw, agrees with you.” I paused while I did a brief farsight scan of the western horizon. “They’re actually native to Azeroth, for one. Depending on where their power is sourced from, and how, that could account for a lot.” Which is to say, the titan Azeroth, incubating at the planet’s core.

  “But you don’t think so,” Sylvanas read off my face. “At least you don’t think that’s all of it.”

  “My personal theory is that the Pantheon deliberately chose dragons because they’re like cats.”

  “Pardon?” Sylvanas blinked at me repeatedly, which looked particularly striking from eyes that literally glowed. Her inner light accentuated her face’s outlines in very flattering ways. Not so much now as in the dark of night, but you didn’t unsee it after the first time you noticed. “That’s a new one.”

  “Self-absorbed, aloof, lazy, too important to bother with the rest of the world unless it intrudes on them first?”

  “All I’m hearing is flaws.”

  “Those personality traits practically guarantee that the dragons will only ever do the absolute minimum meddling, unless they end up enjoying their job in which case they go native.” I waved vaguely. “All the power and authority to fix literally any damage, but with practically no inclination to take over the world, never mind micromanage all of us tiny, fleeting sapients. Too much work, and thankless too if you want to do it secretly. Ruling is hard work, why would you ever bother when your highest ambition is to stay among your own kind? Which, incidentally, live nigh eternally like you, so they don’t cause you unending grief by constantly perishing before you even know it? Some would love us, some would hate having to train the next generation to get with the program so they can go back to being gardeners, the result is the same.”

  Sylvanas frowned at me, as if not believing I could possibly be serious, then turned away. “I hadn’t considered it from that angle.”

  “They aren’t like us, they don’t think like us. So long as they’re not malicious, I honestly prefer them this way, if we really must endure their stewardship of the planet.” We didn’t, anymore, but that wasn’t this year’s problem to sort out.

  “I will check that our perimeter is secure,” Sylvanas abruptly decided, turning to leave. She paused briefly though, to toss me one last glance. “Thank you. You’ve given me much to think on.”

  I waved in parting, then went off to take my place at the front of the convoy on my horse, to break the sandy gale alongside my hundred knights now that we understood the desert’s mood a bit better.

  Once we arrived at our destination, we made a more permanent camp while the dwarves got to work.

  It took a little more time to dig our way through than their most generous estimates, since the hollow cavern proved much deeper and closer to Uldaman than originally hoped. About three weeks in total, even with the Light bolstering everyone and their enchanted tools. It wasn’t just digging, but also buttressing the resulting tunnels so they didn’t collapse on us. But with time and perseverance, we finally managed to reach the great stone gates of the titan facility.

  They were sealed shut, with no manner of lock, lever or handle anywhere in sight. Based on what I knew of the future, I wouldn’t have been surprised if it could only be opened from the inside, maybe through some magical means like the Staff of Prehistoria that you needed to open Ironaya’s room in the Map Chamber.

  I had a hunch and a hope, though, that we wouldn’t need to blast our way in. In the end, this was Tyr’s ultimate redoubt, his home base, his secret bunker from where he hoped to run a long-term insurgency against the traitor Loken. That he never actually made it all this way didn’t matter, the original Uldaman had been repurposed for that by Archaedas, and there should even be an entire secret wing dedicated just to keeping Tyr’s memory disk safe.

  I waited for the dwarven miners to dig out and clear the area of any stones, dirt or anything else that might get in the way of hinges or whatever other mechanisms may or may not be at play. It took another several days, during which only a basilisk literally dropped into our midst through a hole in the fresh cave ceiling. It was easily dispatched.

  Finally, I walked up to the massive doors, reached into my magic bag, and pulled out Tyr’s hammer.

  As the massive double-headed warhammer was revealed, the megacavern was illuminated in a soft but far-reaching silver-gold radiance. Humans, dwarves, even the elves murmured in everything from appreciation to sheer awe when the Silver Hand was revealed for the first time since Tyr’s own death.

  Most importantly, as the glow fell upon the great doors, shimmers with no prior mark or pattern were revealed, right at the front and center where a lock would otherwise be. Absent the revealing Light, they blended perfectly with the decorative knotwork on the slabs.

  I guessed right.

  It was too high for me to reach, but I didn’t feel inclined to wait for a ladder or scaffold to be raised. Instead, I took off my clothes in favor of a cloak around my waist, stepped up to the double doors, and let myself grow to full size for the first time since New Year’s day.

  I wouldn’t be the size of a vrykul for some time yet, but I grew well beyond the tallest Kul Tiran man by a fair bit. It still left me shorter than the shimmering pattern on the doors, but that was fine. I could reach it now.

  I could hear mutters behind me, about how this or that dwarf was proven right and I was also one of the Makers, or something. I ignored them.

  Lifting the inaptly misnamed Silver Hand above my head, I gently pressed the hammer’s head against the arcane lock.

  There was no click, or chime, or any other distinctive sound.

  But after a few moments, the arcane lock vanished, and the door began to open inwards with a heavy grind.

  I returned to my regular size. By the time the doors finished moving, I was once again properly dressed.

  “Guess we got lucky,” I said blithely, picking up a glowstaff when no magical lights automatically activated to greet us. “Not as much as I hoped though. I’ll go first and eat up any traps or gribblies that might try to slaughter us in the dark. Unless there are any objections?”

  There weren’t.

  “Then there’s just this one last thing that bears repeating.” I looked back over my shoulder with a glare at the dwarves, particularly those of the Explorer’s League. “If you see any pods, coffins, or just creatures lying around as if dead, don’t touch them.”

  “Right!” “Aye sir!” “Understood.” “We know already!” “Honestly.”

  “Guess we’ll see.”

  Stopping just inside the door frame, I inspected the rock. It was green, but not patterned in any way I was used to seeing.

  I used a chisel to test the wall. The rock didn’t scratch even with the greatest possible human effort. More than three on the hardness scale then, so it couldn’t be soapstone or limestone, though patterns in the rock already told me that. Reaching into another bag, I drew a small flask of vinegar, and another one of lemon juice. The etching didn’t get any easier after applying either, or even with both. Not marble either. Serpentine maybe? But it didn’t have the right look for that either.

  Finally, I used the Light to constantly impose healing on my chisel and scratched the stone with supernatural effort. Only now did I get a cut in the surface, and even that was faint. I could push harder, but the chisel would reach its limit before my strength did. I’d tested this world’s granite on several occasions before, and this was harder than that. By process of elimination, this had to be quartzite of some kind.

  No wonder the dwarves could only get in with explosives, in the original future. Even then, they’d looked for an already cracked, weaker wall instead of banging their metaphorical head against the front door.

  I took the first step into the Titan Keep.

  Those magical lights that had failed to activate until now lit up all at once.

  More fool me.

  Except not really, because only the rare and odd one actually worked, here and there. Some on the floor, some in the ceiling, some along the walls. They looked like glowstones too, except blueish emerald, or cyan white in some scattered cases. The color blended in and out of the green stone the whole structure seemed to be constructed from, not just the door frame. Some lights flickered, others were so faint they almost weren’t any use at all.

  Smooth sailing is over for good, it seems, I thought grimly as I carefully advanced along the dusty floor. This is already worse than I thought.