After leaving Hellfire Citadel, the Floating City Khardros flew north.
The orcs in the citadel did not pursue them. In fact, they had no strength left to launch a pursuit.
Following the traces of the black dragons Karin had detected through magic, they skirted the savage coastline and headed eastward.
The landscape was still no different from what they had seen at the Dark Portal: as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but cracked ground, dull gray soil, and withered vegetation and trees.
Apart from the small patches of oasis they passed along the way, most of Draenor's scenery was bleak and tiresome.
Several more hours passed, and a new sight appeared before them.
The terrain around them grew even more uneven, its rises and falls more pronounced, as howling winds blew from every direction.
This was a vast mountain range.
A very strange mountain range.
Towering peaks surrounded them, with stone spikes jutting from the sheer cliff faces.
The rocks were a dark, brownish red, like dried blood.
The scarlet sky stood in stark contrast to the dark red peaks.
It was a menacing and deeply unsettling mountain range.
"Something is approaching us!" Kurdran Wildhammer said gravely.
He had been in no mood to admire the scenery during this journey... he had been watching the black dragons' movements the entire time!
"Prepare for battle!" Kurdran ordered loudly.
At the Wildhammer Highlord's shout, dozens of tiny black specks appeared in the sky.
The black dragons had appeared!
There were quite a few of them, some thirty or forty.
They spread out, surrounding the Floating City Khardros.
"You dare follow the Black Dragonflight!" an angry voice rang out from ahead. "Who gave you such courage, mortals?"
The speaker was a tall black dragonkin, mounted on an enormous