Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  As the wolf raiders rushed toward him, the Quel made one last pass over the crystal.

  It glimmered. Only for a second, but it glimmered. The spell cast by Lord D’Farany still held, but D’Marr knew it must be weakening badly for something to happen this soon. It was fortunate, he thought, that they had not met any more resistance than they had. The power the beasts controlled was even greater than he had assumed.

  The Quel hooted in satisfaction, then stepped away as he was surrounded. Unlike his fellows, he made no move to resist. At another time, Orril D’Marr would have been amused by the absurd sight of the creature calmly holding out his huge arms to be bound, but the Quel’s note of triumph disturbed his sensibilities. He studied the chamber carefully, seeking what clue he could not say.

  Then it came to him that there were only two other tunnel entrances besides his own. When he had scanned the chamber earlier, D’Marr had been certain that there had been three. He turned to the nearest man and asked, “How many ways out of here were there when you came in?”

  Looking puzzled and nervous, the soldier glanced around and answered, “I see two, my lord. Besides the one we entered by.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” It was futile to explain, the young raider decided. Instead, he stalked over to the area where he recalled the missing entrance being and placed a hand against the wall. It was very solid. D’Marr ran his hand along the crystal, searching for anything that seemed not quite right. As far as he could discover, however, it was very, very real.

  Taking the rod, he tapped lightly on the wall. A quiet but solid thud argued against there being a thin, false partition before him. This was a barrier of rock and crystal and a very thick one at that.

  He was tempted to test its strength against one of his exploding bags, but knew that the Pack Leader would never forgive him if the chamber was damaged.

  “You have my congratulations, Orril.”

  His round visage carefully banal, D’Marr turned and saluted his master. He nearly grimaced when he saw that the blue man was with the Pack Leader. “I thank you, Lord D’Farany.”

  The Aramite leader walked slowly into the room, his unnerving features fairly aglow with delight. “Yesss, this is it! This is what I felt!” He put a hand on the platform that the Quel had vacated. “A bit of study . . . and then we shall put it to use.”

  D’Marr glanced at the Quel as Lord D’Farany finished speaking. If it was possible for one of the monsters to look almost smug, then this creature was exactly that. You have a secret, my little beast, and it’s yours for now. Enjoy that time. When the opportunity arises, I’ll take that secret of yours and everything else your mind holds.

  He would be more careful than with the last one. This time, D’Marr would not let death rescue his prisoner. This time, he would squeeze every bit of knowledge from the beast no matter how long it took and how much pain it meant.

  As his eyes returned to the glittering wall, he met his own gaze. The multifaceted crystals made the face behind the gaze a twisted, distorted thing, a creature almost as inhuman in appearance as the Quel . . . and far, far darker within.

  IV

  Two days passed while Cabe sought news that might confirm his fears. There was, in that period, no reoccurrence of the vision and as evening of the second day came and aged, he began to have small doubts. Not about what both he and Aurim had seen, but how he had interpreted it.

  That very night, those doubts were erased as he slept.

  He was among them again. One of them. Clad in the green dragon-scale armor, they mounted their flying drakes and took to the air. The wind was hot against his face. There was something horribly wrong with the heavens, for there was no blue, but rather a sickly green vying with a bloody red. Clouds swirled like whirlpools and wild, free magic was rampant.

  The lead rider-his father-turned to him and, in a voice that demanded obedience, called, “Don’t dawdle back there! We’ve far to go!”

  Suddenly his father’s face stretched beyond belief. His body hunched over and his arms and legs became twisted. Wings burst forth from his backside . . .

  A dragon loomed over him. He tried to turn his drake, but now he lay sprawled on a rocky plain, the animal nowhere to be found. The dragon, huge and terrible, lowered his head and hissed, “You cannot essscape what isss inevitable . . . you cannot escape . . .”

  Then he, Cabe, found himself in the Legar Peninsula. He had barely time to register it when a shadow covered the land. The warlock raised his head and saw a vast sailing ship, black as pitch, slowly sinking toward him from the very sky. He tried to move, but pain suddenly jolted him. His head was on fire. It felt as if he were being torn apart.

  Cabe glanced down at his hands, which tingled, and saw with horror that they were stretching, becoming more beastlike than human. Frantic, the spellcaster tried to reverse the effect, but it was as if his magic were no more. He could not even perceive the lines of force from which he drew his power.

  The looming shape of the black vessel grew larger and larger. The ground beneath his feet trembled. Cabe was certain that he saw movement around him, as if large creatures lurked just below the surface.

  The ship was almost upon him now. Cabe raised his hands in hopeless defense, then could not help stare at them despite the oncoming leviathan.

  His hands were reptilian, the clawed paws of a dragon, but that was not what held his gaze so. It was the skin, a dragon hide that fairly glittered even in the shadow of the ebony ship.

  He had become the Crystal Dragon.

  Cabe woke sitting bolt upright, raw magical energy dancing and crackling at his fingertips. He shivered uncontrollably, not so much because of fear, but because the vision had looked and felt so very real.

  Slim arms took hold of him in the dark and a concerned, caring voice whispered, “It’s all right, Cabe. Nothing was real. Nothing in the dream. You are in the Manor. You’re home.”

  The quivering slowed, then finally ceased. He looked down at his upturned fingers and watched with vague satisfaction and relief as the glow about them dwindled to nothing.

  “Cabe?”

  “Gwen?” Blinking, the warlock turned toward the voice. His eyes adjusted to the dark, allowing him to make out the dim image of his wife. He conjured a small light instead of using his abilities to adjust his eyesight further. Changing any part of one’s form, even temporarily, was a task that required precise concentration for all but a few human mages. It was one area where the drakes would always be superior in the arts of sorcery. He was surprised that he was even able to create the light, considering how turbulent his mind presently was.

  She pulled him close and kissed him, more from relief than anything else. They held each other tight for several moments, then Cabe finally broke the embrace. He looked into her eyes. “I had another vision.”

  “I suspected as much. It’s not a memory of the Manor, is it?”

  “Hardly.” Wiping his hand across his face, he related to her the various images and events he had suffered through. Describing them, however, brought them back to life for him and by tale’s end he was shaking again, albeit not near as much as the first time.

  Gwen took his hands and held them until long after the shaking had ended. “Something has to be done.”

  “We both know what, Gwen.”

  The enchantress squeezed hard. The strength in her hands was amazing. “Don’t even think of it, my love.”

  “What other way is there? This is too demanding. I am either wanted by someone or something or I’m suffering some sort of premonition . . . and it all points to the Legar Peninsula in the end. That means the Crystal Dragon.”

  She did not want to believe that, he saw. In truth, he really did not want to believe it, either. Of all the Dragon Kings, the Crystal Dragon was the most enigmatic, the most ominous. Even the late Ice Dragon or Storm, the drake lord who ruled Wensils, the marshy, rain-drenched land far to the northeast, were definable dangers. No one knew much about the Cryst
al Dragon, not even his fellow monarchs. He had stepped in during the last rage of his northern counterpart, Ice, and, with what seemed a simple gesture, had helped turn inevitable defeat into salvaged victory. In the years since then, he had been silent, ignoring the vast changes in the Dragonrealm that steered it closer and closer to being a human world.

  “The lord of Legar tolerates intruders in his domain, Cabe, but not when their interest lies in him. His predecessors were all the same, it’s said. Secretive and hermitic, yet more than willing to raise their power against those few who dared to disturb them. The Crystal Dragon, whether this one or any of his ancestors, has always been a creature to avoid at all costs. Look what arrogance cost the Ice Dragon.”

  “I’ve been to the peninsula before, Gwen, and not always by choice.”

  “But you never sought him out! That’s the difference, Cabe! This time, you may end up confronting him! I don’t like the thought of that happening!”

  The warlock sighed. “I don’t like it, either, but what else can I do?”

  Gwen paused, then suggested, “Why not go to the Dagora Forest? Perhaps he can help.”

  “The Green Dragon?”

  Her voice took on an urgent tone. “You know he will do for you what he can. At least hear his advice.”

  He considered her words. Green’s borders, now extending into the realm once called the Barren Lands, were close to those of the Crystal Dragon. The Barren Lands had once been ruled by their counterpart, Brown, but after his death, which a young Cabe had unwittingly caused, the Master of the Dagora Forest had claimed them for his own. The Crystal Dragon, in typical fashion, had remained silent on the matter.

  If anyone might be aware of something amiss in the peninsula, it would be the Dragon King Green.

  “All right, I’ll go to him. It’s possible that he might be able to explain what’s happening to me.” Cabe stiffened. “Or to Aurim!”

  “Aurim!” Gwen released his hands, recalling what her husband had told her about their son’s sharing of the vision. The warlock was suddenly alone in bed. It took him a moment to realize what she had done. By that time, the enchantress had already returned.

  “He’s sleeping,” she said, relief paramount in her voice. “Sleeping quietly. This time he must not have shared it with you.”

  Cabe rubbed his chin. “Why earlier and not now? It doesn’t make sense.” He frowned. “No, it does. This is no premonition. Someone does want me . . . me alone. It must be the Crystal Dragon!”

  Gwen took his hands again. “Even if it is, talk to Lord Green first. Please.”

  “Don’t worry; I will.” He took her in his arms and the two of them lay down again. “I promise you that.”

  It was near dawn when Cabe was at last able to relax enough to sleep.

  Although he had known the Green Dragon since his earliest days as a spellcaster, it made his audience with the monarch of the great forest land of Dagora no less imposing. He was, after all, facing one of the Dragon Kings, the legendary rulers of the continent. Until his own involvement with them, Cabe would have never believed that the drake lords were in the twilight of their reign. There were few things in the Dragonrealm he found as overwhelming as the draconian monarchs even after having watched their empire crumble to a few deeply divided kingdoms suspicious of each other and of the humans who were taking their place.

  Green was different, though. He had accepted the decline of power as a natural course for his race, yet the drake had no intention of merely letting his people fade away. He wanted to see both races working together, for in that was his own future.

  Cabe liked to consider the reptilian monarch his friend as well as his ally and he hoped that the Dragon King felt the same way.

  “To what do I owe this visitation, Cabe Bedlam? It is not yet the time for a report on the progress of the emperor’s hatchlings.”

  “They fare well enough, though,” Cabe informed him. “The same problems still exist with Kyl.”

  “Of course. He is like his progenitor.”

  The lord of the Dagora Forest sat in an immense, human-style throne carved from rock and situated atop a marble dais in the back of the vast underground cavern complex that was the lair of his clans. Like so many of the drake race, he had a fondness for the humanoid shape, eschewing his original dragon form for it for months at a time. In Cabe’s opinion, the dragon people were becoming more and more human with each generation.

  There were those, however, who would argue that and would point out the Green Dragon as their example. Humanoid though he was, the Dragon King was most definitely not human. To the eye, the seated monarch resembled a tall, massive knight clad in dragon-scale armor of the finest detail. He would have been more than seven feet in height had he been standing. In truth, the drake lord resembled more what an elfin lord would have looked like were those folk inclined to such warriorlike garb and not the lighter woodland outfits they wore. The armor was a vibrant shade of green, a forest green that spoke of the strength and majesty of the vast wooded region. It covered the Dragon King from his feet to his neck, only giving way above, where the helm, with its intricate dragon’s head crest, nearly covered all else.

  It was impossible not to stare at the dragon head, for anyone who stood before one of the drake lords would certainly feel that the head was staring back. The crests of the wolf raiders were crude in comparison. With their long snouts, toothy maws curled back in what was almost a smile, and narrow, seeking eyes, the dragon heads looked almost alive . . . and very hungry. It was not so surprising. The crest was more than simple decoration; it was the true visage of the Dragon King. The face within the helm was a mere parody of humanity. The face above the helm was the reality. In fact, the entire image the drake presented was false. What seemed like armor was actually his very skin. The scale armor was dragonscale still attached to the original. His helm could not have been removed, for it was his head as much as what was within pretended to be. In attempting to make use of the human form, which they had found so practical for so many things, this had been as close as the male drakes could come. Their progress was slower than that of the female drakes, although no one could say why. Yet, if Kyl and Grath were any indication, the next generation of males had finally crossed the barrier . . . in terms of appearance. Like the Dragon King before him, they still had much to learn about humanity itself.

  For that matter, so did many humans.

  Cabe forced himself not to focus on the crest, which always tended to draw his eyes first. “I come on a matter of great urgency, my Lord Green, and I thank you for this swift audience. I realize I was very abrupt when I requested it.”

  The Dragon King lifted his head, and if there had been anyone in the chamber still thinking that the figure before Cabe could be human, now would have crushed any such foolish notion. From within the false helm, two bloodred eyes burned into those of the warlock. Although the helm obscured much, there were glimpses of a flat and scaly visage. There was no nose, only two slits. When the drake lord spoke, his lipless mouth revealed the sharp teeth of a predator. A parody it might be, but the humanoid visage that the Dragon King wore was in its own way almost as terrible because of that.

  A narrow, forked tongue darted out on occasion when the Dragon King spoke, yet except for some slight sibilance every now and then, he spoke more clearly and precisely than many humans. “Sssso formal, friend warlock! It truly must be an urgent matter then, if you would speak to me so.”

  The chamber was empty of all save them, which had been as Cabe had requested. Torches lit the great chamber. Its rock walls were too smooth, which long ago had led Cabe to the conjecture that one of the Dragon King’s ancestors had dug it all out. There were plants of all shapes and sizes in the cavern and skillfully woven tapestries, some incredibly ancient, decorated most of the walls. Some Dragon King long ago had worked hard to make his lair a thing of beauty and had succeeded, but the dark-haired mage was by no means calmed by the regal setting. It was never possible
to forget that this was the nest of a dragon and had been so for countless generations.

  Cabe had debated on a number of ways to begin, but none of them had seemed satisfactory. Being blunt still appeared to be the best route. “My lord, I seek information concerning events in the realm of your brother, the Crystal Dragon.”

  “Do you?” The Dragon King could not entirely mask his surprise. “And why do you desssire this?”

  The warlock stepped closer, stopping only when he stood at the bottom of the dais. He kept his face devoid of all emotion. “I believe something is happening there. I believe it may involve the wolf raiders.”

  “Aaah?” Now he truly had the drake lord’s attention. If there was a threat other than human magic that the Dragon Kings respected, it was the ever-hungry wolf packs of the Aramites. The black ships had been a scourge that even the most cunning of the Dragon Kings had been unable to put an end to. The revolt that had forced the Aramites to abandon their plundering had been a blessing. “Tell me more, friend Cabe.”

  Cabe told him of the visions, leaving out nothing. The Dragon King was silent throughout. The warlock knew that his host was already considering possible meanings to the visions and what those meanings might demand of him. By the time Cabe was finished, the drake lord had already formulated some thoughts of his own on the subject.

  “I have heard rumors, but this . . . It should not surprissse me that the wolf raiders have come to the Dragonrealm. They are your kind at their most tenacious. If they have chosen the lands of my brother Crystal, then I cannot possibly predict what might occur. The lord of Legar is an enigma even to his brethren.” The Dragon Kings all called one another brother, but the term referred to their supposedly equal status, not any blood relation. As far as the mage knew, none of the surviving kings were truly brothers.