“’Tis your elder son, milord. He continues to goad some of the men into sparring with him. I know he’s good for a youth, but I worry about his getting injured or—”
The lord of Penacles visibly tensed. Donal Marner clamped his mouth shut and even Cabe looked perturbed at the Gryphon’s reaction.
“You know he admires you so much,” the wizard interjected, putting a comforting hand on the Gryphon’s shoulder as he spoke. “And he knows how his oldest brother’s murder affected you. He wants to be able to defend himself and his family.”
“Bad enough that I should worry about kidnap plots like all other rulers, but neither his mother nor I wants him charging into war so young!” The lionbird bristled, then nodded apologetically to both men. “Evidently I am growing old at last. I remember a time when I likely would’ve expected my son to be expertly wielding a sword at five years or so!” He chuckled. “I’ll speak to him, Donal . . . and if I can’t get through to him, I think his mother might. She will not want him influencing little Trajan as well!” Trajan was the youngest of their offspring, a child who even more than Darot resembled the pair’s long-lost firstborn.
“Thank you, milord. Thank you.” The general bowed his head. “With your permission, then, I’ll return to my aides and see about coordinating matters better with this possible double attack.”
“Do that.”
As the commander departed, the Gryphon abruptly stared off to the side. “Perhaps I should let him continue his unofficial practice. With the Hell Plains and Lochivar seeking the City of Knowledge, he may need to fight regardless of what his mother or I desire.”
“You know we’ll stand with you. All of us.”
The Gryphon nodded his appreciation. “The formidable might of the Bedlam family is very welcome, as is their friendship. Yet, I know that you and the lady Gwendolyn have your own troubles, Shade aside.”
“If Penacles falls, everything we’ve worked for falls with it.”
“I’ll not deny that potential.” As they continued down the corridor, feminine voices could be heard again. “Ah, we near our mates . . . and your daughter, too, if I’m not mistaken.”
The wizard’s brow furrowed. “Valea was supposed to stay back at the Manor.”
“She’s of age to make her own choices, Cabe.”
“I know, and that worries me as much as your son’s sparring does you.”
“Perhaps more?” asked the Gryphon with a hint of returning humor.
Before Cabe could formulate a reply, they reached the entrance to what proved to be a wide, roofed balcony overlooking Penacles itself. The walled city with its tall, narrow towers spread as far as the eye could see, a burgeoning kingdom made all the more prosperous by the Gryphon’s deft handling of affairs. Through his efforts, the lionbird had made alliances of varying strength with such other kingdoms as Zuu to the far west, mountainous Talak to the far north, and even, to an extent, the Blue Dragon’s domain. It was the Gryphon’s friendship with the Dragon King’s son, Morgis, that had enabled Cabe to put together the snare with which they had hoped to capture Shade. Of course, neither the wizard nor the lionbird could have suspected that Blue would let his own desire for vengeance overwhelm his pact with them.
A ready quartet of guards saluted the Gryphon, who nodded back to them. The lord of Penacles always acknowledged those serving him, appreciative of the threats to them merely for doing so.
Three feminine figures stood near the carved rail. Two were human and of such similar features that one might have taken them for sisters. Both were quite striking, their lush, long red hair adding to their appearance. One with a hint more of maturity was clad in a forest-green riding outfit that well complemented her shape. The other, with a slightly softer face and touch of uncertainty, was dressed more traditionally in a white and green dress that still allowed for swift movement. She also wore her hair somewhat over the left side of her face, as if seeking to hide a bit from the world around her.
The woman in the riding outfit looked relieved to see the wizard. “Praise be! Maybe you can talk some sense into our daughter.”
Cabe had already focused on the other woman. She was indeed their daughter, despite there barely being much visible difference in age between parents and child. “Why are you here, Valea? You know the risks these days. We’ve only now news that both Black and Red are on the move.”
“I—I wanted to tell you that there’s still no word from Aurim,” she quickly answered.
“Your brother’s affairs will be dealt with accordingly,” the wizard replied, brow wrinkling at mention of his son. “I’ve little doubt that he’s secreted in the Dagora Forest, helping Yssa with her father.”
“I could go to him! He’d listen to me.”
A slight flush of anger touched the wizard’s cheeks. “Out of the question! Aurim should never have returned there, much less offered assistance to the lord of Dagora! Green’s proven that he can’t be trusted anymore! He’s chosen over and over to make decisions he believes best for the Dragonrealm without any consultation with others and without thought of the possible repercussions . . .”
Valea glanced at her parents, then looked for help from the other female present. “Troia . . . ?”
“I am inclined to their opinion,” the feline creature murmured as she left her place by the rail to join the Gryphon. She was of a tawny color and clad in much slighter garments that would not inhibit her in any manner. Her short fur covered all but her face, which was an exotic and appealing combination of cat and human. In contrast to the Bedlam women, her hair was short, just above the shoulder, and fashioned tight, as if to keep it from getting in the way during a hunt. “After all, it was my husband’s best friend and trusted general, Toos, who died because of Green’s vision of what course the Dragonrealm should take.”
As she leaned toward the Gryphon, his face transformed. He now bore the handsome, somewhat weathered patrician features of a human king, the feathers and mane becoming silvered hair that flowed down past his neck. The two briefly kissed.
“Toos died performing his duty,” the Gryphon commented as his face returned to that of a bird of prey. The human form was but a temporary one and seen little by any outside a small circle of trusted friends and his own family. “A duty made necessary by Green’s belief that Kyl’s brother would better serve as Dragon Emperor.”
Cabe confronted his daughter again. “Except that Green didn’t know that Grath was Duke Toma’s puppet. Imagine if Green had succeeded.”
“But, Father! Aurim is just—”
“Enough.” Cabe spoke quietly but firmly in a tone that brooked no further argument. When Valea silently nodded, he added, “We’ll deal with Aurim’s situation when we can. For now, we’ve weightier matters.”
“You’ve captured Shade?” the younger enchantress gasped.
“No . . . he escaped.”
“I’m sorry.”
Gwendolyn Bedlam guided her daughter from the rest of the group. “I know you hate being asked to stay in the Manor, but times are very treacherous now. You know that we have been and will be targets of those serving the Black Dragon, darling. Besides, your skills are needed to maintain the security of the Manor itself. Outside of the Libraries of Penacles, it is the greatest fount of magical knowledge known.”
“We really do not have time for this,” the Gryphon rasped. “Cabe, if you wish to continue with the hunt for Shade, we need to discuss that now.”
“You’re right. Valea, please return home.”
“Yes, Father.” She gestured slightly with both hands. Unseen by Troia but visible to the rest, Cabe’s daughter manipulated lines of force that crisscrossed the area. In fact, they crisscrossed not only the balcony but the entire building and even the kingdom without. The lines represented the magic of the world itself, the very energies that kept it in balance. Those with the gift often saw magic this way and, with practice or special aptitude, could use it to their greater advantage.
Valea di
sappeared.
Cabe exhaled greatly. “I was afraid she would refuse.”
“She is nearing that point, my love,” Gwen replied with some caution. “You will have to accept that she no longer needs to listen to us. If she does listen, it will only be out of respect, not duty.”
“Well, I pray that she understands the need for caution. Just until we can deal with the push by the Black and Red . . .” The wizard’s expression darkened further. “And I don’t want her anywhere near our hunt for Shade.”
“What happened with that, Cabe? We were so thorough with everything.”
“Lord Blue, I think. I can only guess that he did something to the spell to weaken it enough for Shade to destroy it, then used that as an excuse to try to slay the warlock. Another untrustworthy Dragon King, as if that should’ve been a surprise.”
The Gryphon made a clacking noise with his beak, a sign the others had long recognized as marking the lionbird’s desire to make a particularly unpleasant point.
“It may not have been Blue’s doing that caused the actual escape from the spell. I believe that he was simply making use of the moment. In truth, I suspect the hand—or hands—of someone else in this matter.”
“‘Hands’?” Grave concern tinged Cabe’s tone, concern and understanding.
The Gryphon cocked his avian head and stared back at the wizard with one unblinking eye. “Yes, they would have much interest in anything concerning Shade.”
VALEA BEDLAM REAPPEARED . . . but not in the Manor as she had promised. Rather, she materialized not all that far away in another part of the palace.
The chamber was clearly one fashioned after the Gryphon’s tastes, with mementos of battle hung on most of the walls and a long table covered with maps and charts in the center of the room. The huge oak table might have been the focus of attention in the room if not for the vast and intricate tapestry that all but covered the far wall.
But even as all of this came into focus, Valea immediately turned to face the iron door behind her. The thick, bolted door had clearly been designed to keep the chamber secure and would have succeeded against most intruders, even those wielding some form of magic. Even now, the door glowed a soft blue, a sign that the spells cast upon it were in play.
However, the blue meant that there would be no repercussions for her entry, even though it had been without the Gryphon’s knowledge. Valea was one of those granted permission to enter here. Now she used that trust in her by the lord of Penacles to betray not only him but her very parents.
Two hulking statues that appeared to have been forged from the same source as the door flanked the entryway. They looked as if someone had begun to fashion a pair of identical figures resembling brutish warriors but had stopped after barely beginning. Each had one fist raised to its chest and the other hanging at its side. Like the door, they glowed a soft blue.
Had she been some invader, those two statues—iron golems, actually—would have stirred to life and seized her even as she solidified. They were the latest variation of one of the Gryphon’s favored protections for the most important item now residing in this chamber. After some recent attempts at violating the original sanctum by both known and unknown parties, the lord of Penacles had recently moved the prize in question to this special place and crafted this pair of sentinels. Valea was well aware that the spells cast upon them were potent enough to give even her parents pause.
Cabe’s daughter relaxed only slightly upon seeing that she would not be attacked. The Gryphon might have other new traps in place, and he would also be furious if he discovered what she intended.
Valea did not even want to think of how her father would react.
Aware that she might be noticed at any moment, she turned to the reason for her intrusion. The tapestry fluttered lightly even though there was no breeze in the windowless room. Other than the door and the golems, the only illumination radiated from four pale white globes set in curled bronze holders fixed into the corners of the chamber. Barely radiating any light at first, they stirred brighter when the enchantress gestured toward one of them.
She approached the tapestry with awe. All her life, she had heard of it, and even though when older she had watched it being used, Valea had never gotten used to the artifact. She knew it predated the city, yet it displayed Penacles as if only sewn yesterday. The detail was fantastic. The buildings were not simply marked, they were re-created with perfection. There were even two that showed current construction.
The tapestry was of an ancient magic, perhaps the same magic that Shade represented. Part of that magic enabled it to ever show the region as it currently stood. At some point in the far past, that would have meant a mostly wooded area devoid of any sign of civilization save one thing.
That one thing was the only structure not marked by a true image of itself. Valea thought perhaps that was because no one knew if it even had a permanent shape. She peered through the immense display, seeking whatever symbol the tapestry had chosen this time to represent her goal.
In a high corner of the scene, Valea at last spotted what had to be it. The icon of a closed book lay half-hidden among the buildings there. There was some sort of bird on the cover, but she could not make out exactly what it was and did not care. Valea stretched as high as she could but still could not touch the image. She could not recall the tapestry being quite so tall, but the artifact had altered itself in other ways over the years, so growing did not seem so odd a thing for it to do.
In too much of a hurry to even bother dragging over a bench from the side of the table, Valea cast a minor spell. As if suddenly weighing nothing, she rose a foot above the floor. The icon finally came into reach. She put a finger to it and began rubbing.
The grating of metal behind her warned the enchantress of her mistake. The Gryphon had evidently altered his commands to the golems; her simple spell had stirred them to action.
Rubbing the icon harder, Valea concentrated. It was hard to do so with the knowledge that death might be inches from her. The grating rose to a crescendo, all but deafening the enchantress. She sensed at least one of the iron guardians already right behind her and imagined the powerful hands reaching for her neck or swinging hard at her spine.
She suddenly stood in a white hallway at the intersection of no less than six corridors, all lined with shelf after shelf of huge, thick books.
The Libraries of Penacles, or at least some meager part, stood before her.
Valea gasped and could not help looking behind her even though she knew all she would see was another corridor. Only through the magic of the tapestry could one reach the fabled libraries. Who had built them, no one knew, nor how extensive they were. The hundreds of ancient tomes in sight represented only a fraction of the wealth of knowledge found in them. Her father and the Gryphon were of the opinion that some sentient force inside the libraries continued to add information at a constant rate.
Yet, with so much knowledge said to reside here, finding what one desired and divining the meaning of it was often difficult. Valea went to the nearest shelf and seized one hefty book. She let the tome open wherever it pleased and found herself staring at two blank pages. Turning a few more pages revealed more emptiness. All the books would be the same. One could not simply choose a volume at random and peruse its contents; the libraries kept all their secrets until properly asked.
She had never attempted this herself, but she had accompanied both her parents on previous sojourns. Those times, a gnomelike librarian generally came to assist, but Valea saw no one. Not certain what to make of that, she decided at last to press on with her quest alone. Valea had no way of knowing whether her spell had also sent some signal to the Gryphon. He might materialize behind her at any moment. She still hoped to be away before anyone realized that she had come here.
Replacing the tome, Valea drew herself straight, then stretched forth her hands. She had no idea if what she intended would work, but she had no other choice.
The secrets of Shad
e . . . , the enchantress silently called to the libraries, aware that in some ways her request was both too vague and too particular. Show them to me . . . show them to me . . .
How long had she been caught up in the legend of the accursed sorcerer? Most of her life, Valea had to admit. She knew the tale spoken of by so many. She knew about how a sorcerer—or warlock, those terms having become interchangeable in her world over the centuries—whose name was forgotten by the world at large had supposedly sought the secret of immortality. Indeed, he had been said to have had a great fear of death, as if something terrible awaited him beyond.
The sorcerer had journeyed from one land to another seeking the answer to his improbable quest . . . and had apparently found what he believed the answer. The legend went on to say that in a vast cavern he had finally cast his grand spell. But instead of achieving immortality, he had been destroyed.
That should have been the end of it, but with legends, it generally wasn’t.
The library remained still and silent. Valea eyed the books in growing frustration.
Concentrating harder, she tried one last time. Show me! Show me!
As the enchantress waited, her thoughts drifted back to the legend and the aftermath of that supposed great spell. The sorcerer had been utterly destroyed . . . but then had awoken resurrected fully far, far from his sanctum. Yet, he had not been whole. His mind had fragmented—most of his memories were now lost—and his personality had shifted entirely to the darker end of human thought. More visibly unsettling, his face—his entire being, so Valea suspected—had taken on a blurriness, as if the sorcerer were not entirely in tune with the world.
Thus had Shade been born.
Valea glared at the heavy tomes, which still had not responded to her entreaties. Defeated, the enchantress lowered her hands.
The endless rows of books began quivering, as if shaken by some great tremor, but the floor beneath Valea’s feet was motionless.
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade Page 3