Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  “Not the same . . .” the Pack Leader was muttering. Despite his words, however, a smile had crept across his scarred visage. “Not the same, but so very close . . . I will just have to accept that.”

  His eyes were still focused.

  “My lord, I shall remove the tooth, yes?” D’Rance looked exceptionally eager. D’Marr momentarily put his discovery aside and started to mouth a protest. He knew, through careful observance, that the northerner had some trace of power. Was it possible that he had more? Did he have the will and ability to control the keeper talisman? That would take more skill than the Aramite had suspected him of having.

  His words of protest never left his lips, for Lord D’Farany was quicker to respond. His eyes bore down on the blue man and D’Marr had the distinct pleasure of watching his rival cringe under the intensity of those suddenly alive orbs. “Your readiness to assist me in all is commendable, Kanaan, but you may leave it where it is. There is no more secure place for it now than where it presently stands.”

  D’Rance assumed a more servile position. “Yes, my lord. I meant nothing by it, my lord.”

  The Pack Leader had already dismissed him from his attention. Now those eyes focused on the peculiar scene of the Quel lying on his side far from where he had been earlier positioned and Orril D’Marr standing near the wall, much too far away from the prisoner that he had been charged with guarding. “And you, Orril?”

  The raider wondered how he was to convince Lord D’Farany of what he had seen. An entire cavern lay hidden from the invasion force, yet only he believed-knew, rather-that it was there. The Pack Leader and the blue devil had been so engrossed in the spectacle above them that they had missed the unveiling of the Quel’s secret.

  “Forgive me also, Lord D’Farany. Sorcery is not my realm. I admit to having been somewhat . . . overwhelmed . . . by the results. I’ve seen things I’d never expected to see.”

  “Wonderful things . . . and there will be so much more . . .” The Pack Leader gazed down at the Quel creation, his eyes filled with great fondness. “We shall do so much together, the two of us . . .”

  The eyes were losing focus.

  With a last gentle touch, the Pack Leader separated himself from his prized possession and, to neither subordinate’s surprise, departed without a word. Kanaan D’Rance remained behind only long enough to look from the device to his rival before he disappeared into the tunnel after the Aramite commander.

  D’Marr stared thoughtfully at the wall that had, so far, beaten his efforts to unmask it for what it was. He would have to find another way in than this place, that was all. Perhaps there was another chamber that also shared a wall with the hidden cavern. It would be a simple matter of exploration, of hunting. He excelled in hunting, no matter what the prey. Then, with the aid of his explosive toys, he would create for himself a new and permanent way inside. There would be no magic to stop him then.

  From the mouth of the tunnel, a wave of black armor flowed into the room. It was the guard contingent Lord D’Farany had brought with him. The ranks split as each man entered, one line moving to the left side of the chamber and the other to the right. D’Marr signaled two of the soldiers to take custody of the Quel. The captive departed without protest, but inhuman eyes watched the young officer until the depths of the tunnel swallowed the creature. The other guards shifted their ranks to make up for the slight loss to their number.

  I will have to make measurements, D’Marr thought, returning with anticipation to the project ahead. Too much powder and the explosive would bring down not only the wall but the rest of the cavern as well. Best to find the proper spot first. Then I can judge how much will be needed.

  There were already men mapping the complex system of caverns and tunnels that made up the Quel domain. While far from complete, he was certain that their charts already revealed enough for his present concerns. With so much importance placed on this particular section of the underground world, it had only been logical to map it first.

  He had much work ahead of him, but Orril D’Marr was pleased. He was on the verge of shattering the last hope of the beastmen and discovering what great secret lay in that cavern behind the wall.

  The guards came to even greater attention as he passed them on his way out of the chamber, but the raider officer paid their fear of him no mind this time. His only thought was on the coming success of his project and the look on the blue man’s face when D’Marr revealed to Lord D’Farany the most closely guarded of the underdwellers’ mysteries . . . whatever it was.

  They did not know how close they had come.

  The Crystal Dragon stirred himself from the self-imposed stupor. Trust the wolf raiders to be both predictable and unpredictable. He had been certain that they would somehow seize control of the Quel’s domain. He had been fairly certain that they would have some success with the subterraneans’ mechanisms. What he had not been prepared for was the level of that success. The invaders already had a grasp of the abilities of Quel might. Given just a little more time, they would grow adept. A little more . . . and they would dare to confront him.

  He should strike before they grew too strong. He should risk himself, for delaying the inevitable only made the later consequences worse.

  How? How do I sssstrike? It mussst be effective but taking the least effort and concentration possible! There cannot be too much risssk. That might lead to . . . If only there had been time to rest. That would have changed everything. They would have been insects to crush beneath his huge paws.

  The glittering leviathan twisted his neck around and sought among the treasures he had accumulated over time. Some were there because of simple value, some because of purpose. Carefully he scoured the vast pile. There were times when he had thought of organizing it again, storing it anew in the lower cavern chambers, but that would mean leaving the protection of his sanctum and doing so might prove the final, fatal blow.

  Sssomething . . .

  Then, to one side of the pile, almost separate from it, the Dragon King sighted the answer to his plea. It was not what he had wanted, not in the least, but the longer he stared at it the more the dread monarch knew it was his only choice. Massive, daggerlike talons gently picked up a small crystalline sphere in which it seemed a tiny, reddish green cloud floated. There was something unhealthy about the cloud, for the colors did not speak of life, but long and lingering decay. The sphere was no larger than a human head, which made it tiny indeed for one such as he, but he had learned care in using this gargantuan form, for even shifting to the manlike image his counterparts preferred was dangerous now. Each transformation distracted him, made him more vulnerable to . . . to the danger of losing himself. Now especially he dared not transform. It might be just enough, combined with his lack of rest, to defeat his long efforts.

  He was careful for another reason. What the cloud represented could not be accidentally released full-fledged upon the world, not even for as short as a single blink of an eye.

  But what of a tiny fragment of its evil? Might that do?

  With the tenderness of a parent holding a newborn babe, the Dragon King brought the sphere to near eye level. A distorted image of his monstrous face glared back at him, but he forced himself to ignore it as he always did.

  “Yessss, you could aid me. You could act where I cannot. You could blind them; lead them assstray. Perhaps you could even remove this blight on my kingdom.” The Dragon King laughed bitterly. “A blight to plague a blight. So very apt.”

  He continued to contemplate the sphere. The cloud swirled, briefly revealing a hellish landscape. The crystal artifact was not a thing designed to contain but was rather a door of sorts . . . a door to a nightmare that the drake lord had lived with since almost the beginning.

  “Nooo . . .” whispered the crystalline-skinned dragon. “Not yet. I mussst consssider thisss firssst . . . yet . . .” He twisted his head to one side and looked at the deadly cloud from another angle. “If only the decision were not mine anymore.” />
  Lowering his paw, the Dragon King summoned up the images of the raider camp. He stared long and hard at the army and its leaders, memories of another time and another invasion slowly seizing hold of him.

  “Ssso very much alike they are,” he hissed. “Asss if the world hasss gone full circle.”

  The malevolent cloud in his paw shifted violently, almost as if it were reacting to the words of the drake. The Crystal Dragon did not notice the change, caught up as he was in both the sights before him and the phantoms stirring anew in his mind. The scenes reflected in the multiple facets blended in with those phantoms, creating a myriad collection of twisted and misremembered pictures.

  “Full circle,” the Crystal Dragon muttered again. “Asss if a door to the passst had opened up . . .” The gleaming eyes narrowed to little more than slits as the drake lord became further enmeshed in the visions. “A door open . . .”

  In the sphere, a storm began to rage.

  VIII

  It was not until well into the day that Cabe and Darkhorse were finally able to shake off the effects of the mishap with the magical staff. They had dared not enter Legar in such condition and so the two of them had been forced to simply wait. Cabe used the time to first compose a carefully worded message to be sent by magic back to Gwen and the children and then to rest; Darkhorse chose to make use of the wait by constantly grousing about time ever wasted. It was not that the wait was not necessary. Even the demon steed knew better; he could simply not stop himself from complaining over and over again. The warlock knew deep down that what drove his companion to such impatience and bickering was the ebony stallion’s own knowledge that with nothing else to occupy his thoughts, the haunting memories of Shade would return. Darkhorse was seriously trying to free himself of his obsession, but it was a monumental task even for him.

  Thinking of memories, Cabe could still not recall the night before without shuddering a little. Darkhorse often forgot that as mighty as his friend was, the warlock was still guided by human instincts and preconceptions. Plummeting earthward from such a height had nearly been too catastrophic an event for the mage’s heart. With his own skills in question, he had been forced to rely solely on the eternal. Even as good friends as they were, Cabe could not completely put himself into the care of a being who could never truly understand death as men did.

  Fortunately, this time Darkhorse had known what he was doing. The shadow steed had landed hooves first on the ground, but the warlock had felt only the slightest of jolts. Such a landing would have shattered the legs of a real horse and killed both animal and rider instantly. Yet Darkhorse had ridden off into the nearby hills the moment he was certain that his passenger was secure and safe.

  They now waited in the foothills of southern Esedi, the great western region that had once encompassed the domain of the Bronze Dragon. The kingdom of Gordag-Ai, Queen Erini’s birthplace, was actually a part of the northernmost reaches of Esedi. That was not why Cabe had chosen it for sanctuary, though. Rather, he had chosen the location because from where they were they could look down into the northeastern borderlands of Legar.

  “It is late, Cabe! How much longer need we wait?”

  “How do you feel now?” the spellcaster asked. He presently sat on one of the many rocky outcroppings dominating this hill. This part of Esedi was actually related to the hills of Legar although it lacked the heavy growth of crystal unique to the peninsula.

  The dark-haired sorcerer had cause to question his companion’s condition. For him, it had been more than an hour since the last lingering effects had finally faded away. The eternal, however, had continued to suffer to some degree, enough to make Cabe hesitate to leave. Darkhorse, being, in essence, magical himself, had been affected much more severely.

  In response, the dark stallion suddenly reared and struck out at one of the nearest formations with his hooves.

  Fragments rained down upon them as the single blow pulverized the rock and sent it scattering.

  “I am ready,” concluded the massive steed.

  “Then let’s leave.” He rose and swiftly mounted. In truth, Cabe, too, was anxious to begin the final leg of the journey. He had not wanted to mention anything to Darkhorse, but during his rest he had been visited by yet another vision. It had not been as strong as the others, perhaps coming only as a reminder. Still, it had been vivid enough to make him fear that his delays, both accidental and intentional, had cost them precious time.

  Unlike the others, this vision had consisted of only one scene and a short one at that. Cabe had stood in the middle of the rocky landscape of Legar, but not with Darkhorse. Instead, he had found himself facing an armored figure, a bearded man clad in the same dragonscale of the previous visions. The man was an adversary, but he was also an ally, for even as the warlock had settled into the vision, a black shadow had spread across the land. Both of them had known at the same time that it was coming for them. His companion had pulled out a sword, but it was no ordinary weapon, for the blade was fire-drenched crystal. He had swung the blade again and again at the shadow, cutting it into fragments, but the pieces simply merged and sought them out anew.

  The warlock had tried to help, but not even the least of spells had obeyed his will.

  Before him, the armored figure had thrown down his sword and raised his hands in what was obviously the beginning of a spell of his own. There had been a look in his eyes, a fatalistic look, that Cabe had discovered he feared more than any threat from the black shadow. It reminded him too much of the eyes of the Ice Dragon. Somehow, he had been certain that the spell would destroy them as effectively as the shadow. It had also been clear that his companion had not cared in the least.

  He had run toward the man, shouting “No!”

  Cabe had been too late.

  It was at this point that he had stirred. The vision had lingered a second more, but all that the half-asleep spellcaster could recall was a shuddering sensation of nothingness worse than even what one felt in the empty dimension called the Void. Cabe Bedlam knew that what he had experienced had been a taste of utter death.

  He had no intention of relating the experience to Darkhorse. The shadow steed might think to leave him behind, something that Cabe could not permit. As much as the latest vision unnerved him, it only made him more determined . . . and more curious.

  Cabe had barely settled onto Darkhorse’s back when he felt the massive figure stiffen. The eternal was staring out at the western horizon, ice-blue eyes focused on something that his human rider could evidently not see. The shadow steed sniffed the air around them. “What is it, Darkhorse? Something wrong?”

  “It may be nothing, but . . . there is a fog or mist spreading across this region of Legar. Can you not see?”

  Squinting, he tried to make out what Darkhorse claimed to have seen. The hills near the horizon had a vague, indistinct quality about them, but nothing that would normally make him worry. Then, as he continued to study it, the landscape just a bit closer also grew murky. A minute more and he could no longer even see the hills at the horizon. There was something there, he finally had to admit, and at the pace it was spreading eastward, there could be no doubt that it was nothing natural.

  “It will have engulfed much of Legar already, Cabe.”

  “We’ll have to travel by land, not teleportation. Will the fog cause you difficulty?”

  Darkhorse snorted. “I will only know that when we are in the midst of it. What do you say?”

  “I don’t have a choice, but you-”

  “That is all I need to know!” The ebony stallion started down the hillside at a pace and angle that made his rider cringe even though his abilities were now strong enough to protect him from any fall he might have.

  Cabe’s original intention had been to teleport to a region of Legar that he vaguely recalled from an undesired trek long ago. When he realized just how vague those memories were, however, he had then decided that a better plan would be to use short hops involving line-of-sight teleporta
tion. After all, it was a rare day that did not find the sun-drenched peninsula a clear sight all the way to the horizon. A rare day like today, apparently.

  They dared not materialize in the midst of so thick a fog, not when there might be raiders nearby. It was impossible to know exactly how great an infestation there was and it had been risky enough to consider teleporting when the two of them could see their surroundings. All of Legar might be under the watch of the Aramites. They were nothing if not efficient in that category.

  Regrettably, they were only a short distance into the harsh land when the first tendrils of mist surrounded them. Before they could even react, the fog had already overwhelmed the sky above them. Legar no longer glittered; it was now merely a dull, rocky domain where life struggled. Darkhorse was almost immediately forced to slow to a crawl as the mist continued to thicken at an alarming rate. Cabe Bedlam shivered as they entered the enshrouded realm. The peculiar green and red coloring of the mist did not strike him as healthy for some reason.

  “I’d almost swear that the fog surged directly toward us,” whispered Cabe. He did not have to whisper, but something about the dank mist made him want to do so.

  “That may be. It certainly shifted in our direction with superb accuracy . . . and as far as I can ascertain, the wind does not blow hard enough to have done it.”

  “Do you sense anything out of the ordinary?”

  The towering steed unleashed a short, mocking laugh. “I sense mostly that we will be journeying through this muck for some time to come. The fog seems to flow both around me and within. I cannot say that I expected less.” He sniffed the air. “There is something obscenely familiar about this muck.”

  Cabe Bedlam did not understand the last, but he most certainly agreed with the rest of what the ebony stallion had said. With much effort, it was possible to sense his nearby surroundings, but trying to reach out and study the path far ahead was nearly impossible. At best, he had vague impressions of the landscape and the possible knowledge that there were a few life-forms, none of very significant size, lurking about in the strange fog.