Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  Whatever its origins, it could not be denied that the Manor had seen many, many masters over the centuries. Ghost images of scenes, some accompanied by sound as well, burst into momentary life, so Cabe had told him. Sometimes those images would also come in dreams. Only those with some magical tendencies were generally bothered by such. The drake knew he would not have liked living in the Manor, yet Cabe and his beautiful wife, the scarlet-tressed witch Gwendolyn, enjoyed their life here, as did the children, both the spellcasters’ own and the drake young they had raised. Even the humans and drakes who acted as their servants somehow found life in the Manor enjoyable for the most part.

  Although he had never said such to Cabe, the Green Dragon was unnerved by the Manor. Being what he was, he did not, of course, show any sign of that anxiety.

  “I won’t let them enter the Manor grounds,” the warlock repeated. “They must take me for a fool.” Without the Bedlams’ permission, it was impossible to enter their sanctum. The Manor and the garden and woods that surrounded it all were protected by a strong magical barrier invisible to the eye. Only a select few could enter without having to request permission. The spell was ancient, a fading remnant from some previous lord; the witch and warlock had not only revitalized it but improved it as well.

  “I thought, perhapsss, somewhere more neutral.”

  Cabe frowned and crossed his arms, wrinkling the dark blue sorcerer’s robe he wore. “I don’t care for the thought of surrounding myself or any of my family with Dragon Kings, present company excepted.”

  The Green Dragon’s laugh was accented by a mild hiss. “I have never cared much for that myssself!”

  Somewhere a harp began to play. Cabe’s brow furrowed. He did not care for harp music, but his daughter Valea did. So, unfortunately, did the heir to the drake throne. Dragging his thoughts back to the present predicament, he tried to devise some sort of compromise. “Somewhere neutral might work, but . . . but I still have trouble with being surrounded by Dragon Kings.” His face lit up. “What if the others chose a representative among themselves, someone you and they both trust? I could agree to something like that. We could meet in the Dagora Forest, if that’s acceptable to you.”

  “If that isss your offer, Cabe Bedlam, then I shall relay it to them. I have no qualms about it. They might agree to a represssentative, but the meeting ground may be more questionable. I will try to convince them that thisss is reasonable.”

  “Who would you choose among them-if I may ask that, my lord?”

  “There is no question,” the drake lord hissed. “Black is trusted by no one, perhaps not even himself. Red is young; his opinion is still shaky. Storm . . . we fear for his sanity. None of us desire another Ice Dragon.”

  The name sent shivers through the mage. The Ice Dragon had been one of the eldest, most traditional of the present Dragon Kings. After the fall of the emperor, he had come to the conclusion that only a sheet of death-giving ice blanketing the entire continent would rid the realm of the human situation. Of course, it would also rid the land of the drakes as well, but the fatalistic monarch of the Northern Wastes had considered that worth the victory.

  If the Storm Dragon was following the Ice Dragon down the path of madness . . . Cabe knew of at least one other Dragon King who fell into that category already, but at least the Crystal Dragon kept his insanity to himself.

  “No one will trust this Sssaleese enough,” continued Green, running down the list. “He was not born with the proper birth markings. That leaves but one real choice for any of us . . .”

  “Blue.” Cabe leaned against a chair. “He maintains a peace of sorts with Penacles even though the Gryphon doesn’t actually rule there any more.” The Gryphon, whose appearance resembled that of the winged beast, had ruled Penacles until his need to discover his own past had sent him overseas to the dark empire of the Aramites. For many years he had worked to bring down the wolf raiders, as the Aramites were better known. While he was away, his second, General Toos, had ruled in his place. Now many, including the Gryphon, called the general king, but the tall, elderly soldier insisted he was only regent. In the eyes of loyal Toos, the Gryphon would ever be his commander.

  “His ssson, Morgisss, is also a good friend of the lionbird.”

  “Will the other drakes accept his opinion?”

  “I think that I will be able to convince them of that.”

  The harp music had ceased. Cabe flinched when he realized that, but then silently reprimanded himself for thinking the worst of his daughter. She was intelligent, whatever her infatuation with the exotic and unquestionably handsome heir. “Then . . . then I will agree to such terms, my lord. It’ll have to take place after the visits to Talak and Penacles, however. I wish there was a way to avoid those meetings, but as you pointed out, if we get acknowledgment from two of the major human kingdoms in the east, it will make the path to the throne that much easier. I hope. Gwendolyn is in Talak now, helping to prepare things.” And with Queen Erini’s aid, perhaps keep King Melicard from changing his mind about the whole visit! “The journeys to Zuu and Gordag-Ai are still planned for immediately after the ascension, so we have no trouble there.”

  The Dragon King nodded. Within the false helm, the thin, lipless mouth stretched into a toothy smile. “Understand that my fellows truly have no choice; the idea of a new emperor is repellent to some after two decades of complete independence, but they also recognize the need. My race isss faltering; you know that. If we are to survive in the world of men, a world the Dragonrealm hasss already become, then we must unite dessspite our differences!”

  Cabe smoothed his robe, trying to think of a delicate way to say what needed to be said. He could find no way but the simple truth. “There are many who think that a reunited drake race is the last thing we need. There are some who say that now that humans have the strength, it’s time to deal with your kind once and for all.”

  “I am certain that Melicard of Talak isss one of them.”

  “One but hardly the worst. The Dragon Kings, again your company excepted, my lord, have rarely endeared themselves to mankind. A new emperor is to some simply a resurrecting of old evils.”

  For a time there was only silence, as both drake lord and sorcerer considered what they were attempting. Then, the Green Dragon said, “I never expected it to be simple, but I know it must be done. So do you, Cabe Bedlam.”

  “I-” The warlock’s agreement was cut short by the sight of a figure lurking just within the room beyond the balcony. Cabe abandoned his position and stalked over to the entrance. The Dragon King watched but did not question.

  “What is it, Grath?”

  Out onto the balcony emerged a drake, but one different in so many ways from the forest lord. Whereas the Green Dragon wore the form of a hellish knight of emerald hue, this one more resembled a human. Shorter than Cabe by two or three inches, Grath had sharp, almost elfin features on a human face. His hair was short and dark green, his skin gold with touches of emerald. The young drake smiled nervously, revealing teeth slightly more pointed than that of a human. Like his elder brother, Kyl, Grath caught the eye of many women, both drake and human, but unlike the heir to the drake throne, the younger offspring of the unlamented Dragon Emperor seemed not to notice. Grath spent most of his time in the libraries. If . . . when Kyl became emperor, it was intended that Grath serve as advisor and minister.

  Cabe had always considered it a blessing that Grath had turned out the way he had. With him to counsel his elder brother, the possibility of Kyl doing something rash was greatly lessened. Not eliminated, but at least lessened.

  The drake looked nervously at his guardian, then glanced at the Dragon King. “I . . . heard . . . that my lord Green was here! I just wanted to . . .”

  Cabe rescued the faltering Grath. “You want to ask him some more questions, of course.” The young drake nodded in silent gratitude. For the most part, Grath shadowed his brother, but given an opportunity to talk with the Green Dragon about drake history, h
e suddenly became a personality. Cabe could never have believed that a drake could be shy, but that appeared to be the case. “Something strikes me, though. Shouldn’t you be taking lessons with Master Traske?”

  Grath almost looked guilty. “Master Traske cancelled classes but a few minutes ago, Lord Bedlam. I swear that by the Dragon of the Depths!”

  “I hope he’s not ill.” This was not the first time of late that Benjin Traske had abruptly cancelled a session. Granted the human tutor’s duties were now limited since most of his charges were nearly of adult age, but the cancellations were coming with much regularity these days. Traske was a huge man in both girth and height, and almost twice as old as Cabe appeared. The scholar had a touch of magic around him, but evidently not enough to slow the aging process. If he was not well . . .

  Grath quickly smothered his guardian’s concerns for Benjin Traske’s health by replying, “No, sssir. He seemed healthy . . .”

  Cabe dismissed the matter, deciding that he would speak with the man when he had the opportunity to do so. “If His Majesty has time when we are finished-”

  “I would be pleasssed to ssspeak with you, my lord Grath,” interrupted the Dragon King. He treated the other drake with deference, almost as if it were Grath, not Kyl, who was about to ascend the throne. Cabe and Gwen, while they, too, respected the younger drake’s royal lineage, tried to treat Grath as a young man, not a symbol. Both mages felt it was important to give the dragon heirs some notion of normal behavior. It had been too often the case in the past that kings had been raised with no concept of themselves as real individuals. They were trained to be a power, a living incarnation. While that was necessary to a point, it also meant that they tended to lack the ability to understand the lives of those they ruled.

  Whether humans had ever raised drakes before the Green Dragon’s suggestion roughly two decades earlier, the warlock could not say. Cabe had no idea whether he and his wife had been correct in their decision to accept the Dragon King’s challenge; they could only hope that some good would come of the years the drake children had spent growing up here.

  Grath brightened at the drake lord’s response.

  “But first I must speak with your brother.”

  That brought a brief darkness to Grath’s visage, but he almost immediately recovered. Bowing, he asked, “Shall I go seek him out for you, Uncle?”

  The term was strictly one of respect, as was the Dragon King habit of calling one another “brother.” Since the various clans rarely mixed, the Green Dragon was no more Grath’s uncle than he was Cabe’s. However, in the eyes of the dragon prince, it was obvious that he thought of the visiting monarch as approaching as close to the blood tie as was possible. The lord of the Dagora Forest represented everything that Grath had grown up believing in, yet, because of his secondary position, would never be unless something happened to Kyl.

  All knew that the younger drake would sacrifice his own life before he would allow anything to happen to his older sibling.

  “That would not be proper,” returned the Dragon King. “As he will be my lord, it is fitting that I go to him.”

  Which would only serve to further inflate Kyl’s ego, the mage thought. Unfortunately, Kyl had begun to develop his personality long before he had been placed in the care of the Bedlams. While Cabe and Gwen had triumphed in reshaping some edges of that personality, as a whole the heir to the dragon throne was little changed from the day he had first come to them. Still, even the few changes wrought would make Kyl a more trustworthy emperor than his sire had been toward the end.

  “Do you know where Kyl is, Grath?”

  “Yes, Master Bedlam.”

  When he saw that the drake would not elaborate, the dark-haired mage grew suspicious. “Where is he, Grath?”

  “With Aurim.”

  “Aurim?” It was not the answer Cabe Bedlam had expected. He wondered why Kyl’s brother seemed worried. Aurim and Kyl did on occasion spend time together, mostly because there were few others living at the Manor who were of a similar age. Aurim was also likely the only one the emperor-designate considered near his own station. Fortunately, despite the time he spent with Kyl, Cabe’s eldest had not fallen into imitating the drake’s royal manner. “Very well, show us the way, if you please.”

  They could probably have transported themselves there by sorcery, but several reasons prevented them from doing so. One was that the Green Dragon considered it a matter of disrespect to materialize suddenly before his future emperor. Another was that Cabe felt such use of the power was frivolous and wasteful; the Manor grounds were not that huge, and it was certainly no emergency.

  Last, but by no means least, was the simple fear that Aurim might be attempting to use his own magic. While born with the potential to be even greater than either of his parents, he still had trouble keeping his abilities under control. Spells went wild for no reason that anyone could discover. It was sometimes a wonder that the Manor had survived his childhood. Once in a while, the young warlock would make some progress in maintaining his control, but not often enough that the residents of the area could breathe easy.

  As they followed Grath through the halls of the Manor, the Dragon King said, “I apologize again for the sssuddenness of this visssit. I felt that it was important that I relay the request asss soon as wasss possible.”

  “You need never apologize, Your Majesty! I’m only sorry that my wife will have missed you.” The Lady Bedlam had been a protegee of sorts of the Green Dragon, and that bond had remained strong despite the years. Cabe, on the other hand, while he considered the drake a friend, was always aware of the reptilian monarch’s inhuman side. Whether that was the result of his own prejudices, he could not say.

  Marble corridor gave way on one side to living tree. The Dragon King paused momentarily to admire the skill with which the unknown craftsmen had melded rock and plant together. As they resumed their walk, the drake lord commented, “The Manor will ever be a sssource of amazement to me no matter how much I visssit it!”

  “You should try living here.”

  “I would rather not, thank you. Still, it is a shame we know so little of itsss hissstory. For many centuries, it lay hidden even from many of my predecessssors. To think that such a marvelousss artifact could exissst so clossse!”

  Cabe hid his surprise. He had not been aware that some of the previous Dragon Kings of this region might not have known about the Manor. The warlock did not press for an explanation, but it gave him something to consider when he had the opportunity. One of his pet projects was trying to understand the ancient structure he called home, but so far his results could have all been written on the palm of his hand. The Manor had proved miserly when it came to giving up its secrets.

  Eventually they left the confines of the tall structure and entered the immense garden regions behind it. The gardens were the center of life for those living in and around the Manor. Both the human and draconian servants often found reason to spend their free time here. Some even now looked up from their work to respectfully acknowledge the trio. More than a few of the Bedlams’ people had made the sculptured lands their personal project, many times contributing to its upkeep even after finishing with their personal chores. There was something soothing about the gardens. The more one gave to the gardens, the more the gardens seemed to give to the person.

  It had not always been so. When Cabe had first arrived at the Manor, fleeing the Dragon Kings, three drake females had tried to make a meal out of him. Then, in the garden, he had discovered Gwen, frozen in amber for more than a century thanks to Azran. Freeing her had almost killed him, he recalled with a smile.

  The landscape was an artistic delight. Topiary animals, both fanciful and real, dotted the gardens. The sculpted animals seemed to need very little pruning. They had, in fact, looked nearly new when the warlock had first arrived. Beyond them, and the most likely place to find Aurim and Kyl, was a huge maze. The shrubbery walls of the maze rose to almost twice the height of a man. The
initial part of the maze was simple, and many folk came there simply to rest. As one delved deeper, however, the puzzle became more complex, with turns growing wild and confusing. Having grown up with the maze, most of the children found it entertaining fun. Most of the adults, Cabe included, found it perplexing and confounding. If not for his sorcery, the master warlock would have become hopelessly lost on several occasions.

  With Grath to guide them, they maneuvered through the dense bushes. Both Cabe and the Dragon King were silent as they followed. Each time he was forced to enter the deeper labyrinth, Cabe sought to memorize the path, there always being the slight fear that something would cause him to have to find his way out without magic. From the look of concentration he noticed when he happened to glance at his companion, the Dragon King was doing much the same.

  Then, without warning, they came upon the children.

  Children was an outdated term. Both the draconian heirs and the mage’s own offspring were nearly all of adult age. The growth process slowed in drakes as they reached their teens, which made someone of Grath or Kyl’s age resemble someone of Aurim’s, who was a few years younger. Valea, a bit younger than her brother, was the only one who could even remotely still be thought of as a child, but only when she was angry. Young as she was, she was capable of turning heads and garnering admiring glances.

  Which was why the tableau before him almost made the sorcerer want to reach for his daughter and drag her back to the security of the Manor.

  Aurim, clad in a robe of deep, rich red, stood in the center of the small open area, hands raised. His name implied gold and, as a child, he had chosen to take that literally, forever causing his hair to shimmer like the valuable metal, save the silver streak marking him as a spellcaster. Even later attempts to change it back had failed. Cabe’s son wore an expression of intense concentration on his handsome face, and the reason for that concentration was obviously the colorful display floating before him. Miniature comets of red, yellow, blue, green, and purple swirled about in a mad yet coordinated dance. At the same time, a constantly shifting array of tendrils worked to keep the comets in check. The spell was a test. Aurim controlled each and every facet of it. If he lost control of any one segment, the entire display would collapse. Outwardly, such a task might look minor to some, but only powerful and skilled mages were able to do it for very long. This one was the latest and most difficult in a series that the young spellcaster had begun two or three years back.