The Dragon Throne: Knights of the Frost Pt. II (Legends of the Dragonrealm)

by Richard A. Knaak

  He landed hard in the midst of a field of long, thick grass. His collision with the ground created a crater several yards wide.

  Despite Cabe’s shields, the force with which he hit was enough to knock him senseless. When he finally came to, it was to a cloud-enshrouded sky that made the land nearly as dark as if the sun had just set.

  A cold wind that reminded him of what had preceded the wolf raiders coursed through the endless field of grass. Cabe warily watched the vicinity, but no new portal opened.

  Watch...

  He spun around, seeking the source of the voice. In doing so, the mage instead spotted far away a single form trudging through the grass. Cabe could make out nothing at such a distance save that the height indicated a drake warrior.

  Cabe already knew where he was, which made a drake slowly, almost casually, walking through the grass even stranger. The wizard frowned. When he had been younger, this region had been known by another name, one befitting its then stark appearance. Here had stood for some two hundred years the Barren Lands, realm of the Brown Dragon. Here, long ago during the Turning War, Cabe’s grandfather Nathan had with his fellow Dragon Masters had created a spell that had ripped apart the once lush kingdom, leaving behind a rocky, nearly lifeless desolation.

  And here, some three decades ago, Lord Brown, in an attempt not only to wreak vengeance on the Bedlam line but to reinvigorate his kingdom, had attempted to sacrifice Cabe so that the magical blood of a Bedlam could bring back the legendary Adajian Fields. Blood had brought the land back, but not Cabe’s. Instead, Lord Brown had brought about his own death by accidentally unleashing Cabe’s burgeoning powers at the wrong moment.

  In the years since, Cabe had only returned briefly to the rejuvenated fields. Despite their calm appearance, their initial return had involved the slaughter of much of Clan Brown, the very grass itself hunting out and draining every drake to have the misfortune to come too near.

  Cabe had only learned of what had happened long after and had battled his guilt over the slaughter in silence for years. If not for the potential risk of attempting another teleport spell, he would have departed immediately. Now, though, he had to remain in the Adajian Fields until he could ensure he would not spring the wyrm’s trap anew.

  And then there was the voice. Cabe was certain that he had heard it. He also suspected that it had something to do with his having ended up here. This had not been a part of the wyrm’s work. If the trap had succeeded, Cabe had no doubt that he would have ended up deep in the Northern Wastes.

  His attention returned to the distant figure. Whoever the drake was, he was moving at an incredibly slow pace. More curious, the wizard could see that he did so with jerking motions, as if sick or injured.

  The voice had told him to watch. Cabe decided to do just that. Risking a small magical hop as opposed to a full teleport spell, the mage brought himself closer to the drake. At the same time, he raised a masking spell over himself, causing anyone who looked his way to only see the grass around him. It was not the same as invisibility, but close. It also required less energy, for it only made others look past him, not actually force Cabe to actually make himself physically indiscernible.

  A second hop brought him close enough to make out detail.

  The gasp escaped him before he could do anything to stop it. The sound caused the drake warrior to pause and ever so slowly turned his helmeted head toward where Cabe stood.

  Empty eye sockets fixed on the mage’s general location. The drake was no mere warrior, but a shambling corpse with little flesh remaining. The scaled armor that was actually the drake’s skin hung loosely around the skeletal frame. The warrior’s jawbone had become disconnected on one side and swung slightly as the head moved.

  After a moment, the undead turned its empty gaze ahead again. With the same slow movements Cabe had earlier witnessed, it continued on through the high, thick grass.

  Curious, Cabe surveyed the area ahead. Squinting, he noticed distant shapes. A gathering of at least half a dozen --- maybe even a dozen --- still figures surrounding something.

  His own situation momentarily pushed aside, Cabe debated the safety of another hop. Despite some misgivings, he finally took the chance.

  He popped into existence midway between the lone undead and the figures. Not at all to his surprise, they were more of the same. Ten ghoulish warriors in various states of decay. Ten ghoulish warriors who, under the dirt and moss covering much of their bodies, still retained the telltale brown tint that marked them as once serving the lost lord of this kingdom.

  A shiver ran through Cabe. This close, he could see that what they stood around was a grisly platform composed of the scattered remnants of other drakes of Clan Brown. Bones and bits of skin and armor had been piled, perhaps by this band, to create a structure just above waste high. The warriors were apparently those remains that had managed to stay more or less intact despite the savagery with which the fields had taken the drakes’ power and life force.

  None of the figure moved. They just continued to stare at their creation, waiting.

  Cabe moved to the side. Now he could see just what he had expected to see. Another fleshless corpse lay atop the pile.

  The wizard frowned. He hoped he was wrong. He prayed he was wrong.

  But then the helmed head of the horizontal corpse shifted as the corpse tried to rise, revealing in the process a far more elaborate crest than even those topping the ten. Despite the decay, despite the dirt and damage, the intricate dragon’s head remained evident.

  The crest of a Dragon King.

  The crest of the lord of the Barren Lands...or rather, the Adajian Fields...the Brown Dragon.

  * * *

  Orril D’Marr frowned as he stared up at the imposing monster. The skeletal dragon silently looked at the ceiling of the cavern chamber.

  When the reaper wyrm did not move, the Aramite finally growled, “So, he escaped your little trap.”

  “He essscaped nothing,” Toma replied, his voice with a hollow tone to it. “I never intended for him to be captured.”

  “Is that a fact? I don’t recall you saying such before? This isn’t an excuse is it?”

  The cadaverous skull tipped down. Twin crimson flames glared at the small figure. “We have a mutual pact, human. Do not think it precludesss me ending it by squashing you under a paw.”

  “You tried that. It does preclude it. You need me far more than I need you.”

  The gargantuan wyrm closed one paw tightly. “Give me what I want and I will give you what you want.”

  “And you want the wizard Bedlam...but failed to take him. Now, he probably even suspects who and what you are. You’ve lost the element of surprise ---”

  “The element of sssurprise isss nothing compared to the element of fear.” Toma chuckled, a sound just as hollow, just as horrific, as his words. “Cabe Bedlam knowsss what I am. He likely sssussspects who I am.”

  D’Marr exhaled in exasperation. “And so?”

  Toma looked to the ceiling again. Once, when he had lived, controlling Kivan Grath would have been his ultimate prize. Now, there was something greater.

  “And ssso,” the reaper wyrm rumbled. “And so he is mine already without even knowing it.”

  XII

  The Past Resurrected

  The corpse of the Brown Dragon attempted to rise once more, this time succeeding after what was clearly less of a struggle than previously. The undead Dragon King moved with more assurance, more fluidity. Compared to the ten warriors surrounding him, he moved with almost living ability.

  This isn’t possible! This can’t be happening! Cabe kept insisting to himself. After more than three decades as a master wizard, suddenly he felt again like the tavern servant dragged out by lord of the then Barren Lands to serve as the sacrifice. Cabe fought back the shiver of fear that attempted to envelop him, but the fear itself continued to try to take command.

  The monstrous Dragon King stood straight. The helmet turned with a grating s
ound as Lord Brown surveyed his domain. At the same time, the ten warriors bent down on one knee, not an easy task for those missing some of their bones.

  A voice whispered in Cabe’s head. The same voice that he felt he should know.

  A fearsome wind arose, a wind that encircled the undead drakes. The kneeling warriors rose, their skeletal hands reaching for whatever weapons they had. Lord Brown raised one ruined fist, a dark energy forming around it as the horrific drake lord began to cast a spell.

  The wind increased dramatically. The force of it threw Cabe to the ground, but the assault on him was a paltry thing compared to the overwhelming gale attacking the undead.

  One warrior went flying into the air just as Lord Brown cast. Tons of earth rose into the air --- and then dropped as the wizard felt the Dragon King’s spell collapse.

  A second warrior flew into the sky as if plucked by some giant invisible talons. The two undead spun over their comrades, flying faster and faster and faster. Pieces of the pair began to rip free. The fragments joined the dwindling bodies in spinning above the other struggling undead.

  A third and fourth followed the first duo. Lord Brown struggled to stay on his feet as he attempted another spell. Cabe knew that he should have used the moment to depart, but the scene snared his attention. He certainly did not mind the assault on the cadaverous Dragon King, but what was a powerful foe to any drake lord living or undead was something the mage had to make certain would not be a threat to him and those he loved.

  The broken bits of the first two flying undead battered the second airborne pair, quickly reducing them to fragments as well. The remaining warriors battled to keep on the ground, only the Brown Dragon appearing to have any success in maintaining a truly stable position.

  A sense of vertigo overtook Cabe. He struggled to keep from fainting. It felt to him as if he had just cast such a powerful spell that it had all but drained him of his strength.

  The wind roared. A huge funnel formed over the undead.

  The last of the dread warriors flew helplessly into the sky. The ghoulish figure of Lord Brown fought a moment more...and then joined the rest of the dwindling figures above.

  Although the vertigo passed, much of the wizard’s exhaustion remained. Still, he had seen enough to know that he dared not rest a moment.

  He concentrated on the Gryphon...and nearly fell into the lionbird’s arms upon appearing in Penacles.

  “Cabe! What ails you? What happened?” The master of the City of Knowledge looked around. A long, padded bench slid across the marble floor, quickly taking up position where the mage needed to sit.

  “Gryph...” was as far as Cabe got before exhaustion at last overtook him.

  * * *

  He woke up on a long couch in the Gryphon’s war room, maps representing every part of the Dragonrealm lining the wall. Before each map stood a three-foot high fluted column atop which lay a sphere. As Cabe focused on the sphere nearest him, an image formed within. He beheld a scene in what he knew to be the Dagora Forest, a scene very close to where the Manor stood.

  The image on the map above shifted slightly. Only a trained eye like Cabe’s would have noticed the changes in the map, which was adjusting itself to new information gleaned from the sphere.

  Sitting up, the wizard eyed another of the globes. However, unlike the first, this only revealed a haziness within.

  Cabe glanced at the map above it, only to find a similar murkiness covering the entire image.

  “It has been like that for some time now,” came the voice of the lord of Penacles from Cabe’s right.

  “Gryph...” As the mage tried to turn to his host, his bones ached. He could not hold back a groan.

  “Move slowly. It should pass. I’ve been battered and bruised enough over the past two hundred or so years to know that. You barely made it here conscious.”

  “You --- you wouldn’t believe what I experienced.”

  “I might. There are so many unsettling things taking place over so much of the Dragonrealm...including here, which is why i contacted you in the first place.”

  Cabe rubbed the back of his head. “That’s right. I’d forgotten. But Gryph ---”

  The raptor head cocked to the left. “Have no fear. I have already informed Gwen. She wanted to come right here, but I warned her against it, at least until I had more details from you.”

  “How --- how long have I been out?”

  “It is evening the day after your arrival.” The Gryphon let that sink in before adding, “and, regrettably, things have continue to worsen while you recuperated.”

  Cabe knew that the lionbird would have done everything in his power to help the mage recover faster, but magic was not always the best and safest route. If the Gryphon had deemed it necessary to let Cabe rest, the wizard would trust in that decision.

  “Praise be that you managed to convince her not to chase after me,” Cabe remarked, well aware how much Gwen was willing to charge into any danger to rescue either him or the children. Of course, he felt the same way.

  “I want none of us rushing off to parts unknown at this point.”

  Well aware that his friend was not one given to exaggeration, Cabe nodded cautiously. “I saw Aramites, Gryphon. Wolf raiders in force in the Dragonrealm. They were riding huge beasts that looked as if more at home in the cold north.”

  “That would verify reports my spies brought back to me from north of Gordag-Ai --- before they unfortunately ceased contact entirely. You see also the maps depicting the Tyber Mountains and the Northern Wastes. Nothing. It has been so for some time.”

  “Valea mentioned Shade sensing a veil of darkness falling over the Wastes ---”

  “’Shade’?” The lord of Penacle stiffened. He glanced to the side, almost as if expecting the warlock to materialize there...which would not have been so very odd a thing. “Where is he now? With your daughter?”

  “No. They were attacked. By some race of Seeker with which I’m not familiar.” Cabe described them, only to have the Gryphon shake his head. The wizard had doubted that his companion would recognize the creatures. “Shade sent her to safety at cost to himself.”

  “How gallant...this time.” The lionbird rubbed the bottom of his beak with the back of one furred and feathered hand. “I will trust in his unnatural tenacity to survive for now and not think of the alternative should he have been slain.”

  Thinking of Valea, the wizard grimaced. Nevertheless, he nodded. “You said the Tybers were affected, too. Have you tried to contact Kyl?”

  “Several times. My efforts have been met with silence. It is as if the imperial sanctum within Kivan Grath does not exist. No...it is as if the great mountain itself is no longer there, at least to my senses.”

  “Nothing at all? What about Talak then?” Cabe’s gaze widened. “Troia and your sons! Weren’t they ---?”

  “Thankfully, they returned from there just before...Kivan Grath turned silent.” The Gryphon bristled. “Troia said that Melicard’s daughter hosted them while the king himself spent most of his time elsewhere.”

  “With Erini, no doubt.”

  “No doubt. I know you thought you were doing a man in pain a favor, but it would have been best if she had been buried so that they could both rest.”

  Cabe could hardly argue. He had not realized just how obsessed Melicard would be with his wife after her death. The king loved his daughter, but Lynnette had still had to grow up a lot faster than she had needed to. In addition to seeing to her father’s health, she also had to help raise her much younger brother, Rennek.

  “So is Talak also cut off, then?” the mage asked.

  “Only by Melicard’s decision, it seems. I tried to reach out to him after Troia returned, but he refuses to respond.”

  “Maybe there’s something wrong with the communication sphere I left him.” After Erini’s death, Cabe had provided the king with a means by which he could keep nearly instantaneous contact with Penacles and the Manor. Melicard had not always wil
lingly utilized the arcane device, but he had always kept it secure just in case. The king himself was not only not a spellcaster, but had to be careful even touching items of magic. The unique circumstances surrounding his maiming years ago meant that only the rare elfwood fragments used to reconstruct part of his face and most of one arm meant that little magic worked directly on him. It also meant that some items failed when handled too much by the lord of the mountain kingdom.

  “No, this was clearly a willing decision. I can only assume that Melicard believes he can keep Talak safe if it has no contact with anyone. The kingdom keeps siege supplies useful for feeding the population for several months. I’m told the underground storage chambers are tremendously huge.”

  Exactly how large they were, even Cabe did not know. Despite alliances, Melicard remained very secretive.

  Still, Cabe knew it could not remain that way. “Give me a moment and I’ll try. He may be open to listening to me. He must. Gryph, I’ve been collecting my wits...trying to deny what I sensed. I was nearly taken...by a reaper wyrm.”

  “I’m sorry...those are things of legend, aren’t they? Even here in the Dragonrealm.”

  Cabe glanced at the map that should have displayed the Northern Wastes. “One thing I fear is that in the Dragonrealm legends and fact are often one and the same.”

  “I suppose I cannot argue with that.” The Gryphon’s eyes narrowed. “A reaper wyrm. This grows worse and worse.”

  The wizard swallowed. “And worse.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Standing, Cabe again eyed the faded map of the Northern Wastes. “He finally became what he felt he was cheated of being. At least, in a macabre way. He finally became a Dragon King...”

  “Cabe, you are not making any sense.”

  “It was Toma, Gryph. The reaper wyrm. Toma possessing what remained of his sire, including apparently its inherent magic.”

  Cabe waited. It did not surprise him when the silence continued. Finally, he turned to face his companion.