Images abruptly flashed before his eyes, somehow mingling with the markings. The sorcerer blinked, then leaned closer. He now saw that the images were associated with certain markings.
A mountain flashed in and out of existence around a symbol that resembled a serpent winding to the west. What looked like a candle drifted through a sign that looked like an arch. Some images Shade could not even comprehend.
But two especially caught his attention. One was a vision of another mountain, a tall, savage peak that Shade knew well. The second was a brief glimpse of a blue glow that coalesced into the selfsame bird before him, yet appeared alive.
The images repeated and after viewing them several times, Shade realized that he would learn nothing new. Rubbing his eyes, the sorcerer returned his attention to the Dragon King.
“Thisss was new to you. You have not seen their true writing.”
“I’ve seen the markings, but not these visions.” Shade thought it over, finally marveling at what he had witnessed. “I’ve only seen half their writing . . .”
“Yesss . . . the ancients’ full script is both written and magical. Only with both together can there be any chance of deciphering the true meaning.”
Shade unleashed a favored epithet of his unlamented father as it came to him how many of his incarnations had utterly wasted their efforts. None of the artifacts that he had uncovered had retained this particular spellwork and Shade had had no reason to know that. I’ve been working blind so long!
The Dragon King had “found” this item in the Northern Wastes. For it to be so well preserved, there was no doubt he had done so in the ruined sanctum of the Ice Dragon.
Had the dead Dragon King learned anything from the artifact? Darkhorse had exiled himself and Shade prior to the Ice Dragon’s bid to destroy everything and so the spellcaster had only secondary knowledge of the incident, but some of what he had gleaned had hinted that perhaps the insidious power of the chilling drake had been augmented by some other source of magic.
Shade pulled his thoughts together. “I know one of the mountains. Kivan Grath. Lair of your emperor.”
“Indeed. We may not take advantage of that information . . . jussst yet.”
The sorcerer did not bother to ask why. He doubted that the Dragon King would have answered, anyway. “I saw another image, an odd one, that seemed to have some significance—”
“The phoenix,” the Crystal Dragon remarked with an uncaring shrug. “Obviousssly—”
“No . . .” Shade pictured the particular vision again, trying to recall more detail. “No . . . the candle.”
The orbs within the false helm burned stronger, the drake lord no doubt wondering if Shade had lost what sanity he had left. Shade had some questions concerning that himself but pressed on. “The candle . . . it represents something I came across once before on another artifact centuries ago. The ancients had etched its symbol between two others on a rectangular icon that I believe represented a location.” He grimaced. “But there wasn’t enough magic left in the piece for the other aspect of their writing to show itself.”
“Do you ssstill have access to it?”
Shade laughed harshly. “It was lost—along with myself—when the wizard Naran Bedlam managed to send me hurtling into a maelstrom. To be fair . . . I’d just slain his best friend and set the city of Mora Gar ablaze.”
That it had been another of his darker incarnations did not absolve the current Shade of guilt, especially in his own eyes. Still, at the moment, he dearly wished that his previous self had taken the time to secret the artifact somewhere. Even Shade could not hunt for it at the bottom of the Sea of Andramacus, a place with deep, deep trenches.
“A pity,” the drake lord replied. “A dead end, then . . .”
“No.” Shade thought about the image as he had now seen it. There was an aspect to it that he had never known. “No . . . I recall the symbols with it . . . and with the vision I’ve seen here, some things now make sense . . .”
For the first time, Shade heard actual anticipation in the Crystal Dragon’s tone. “What makesss sense? You understand what isss inscribed on thisss statuette?”
“I do not understand it,” the hooded sorcerer immediately answered, growing grimmer. “But I do understand that it represents something to do with magic . . .”
“And ssso?”
Shade stared at the artifact but in his mind saw another vision. A place. “And so, since it is a thing of magic . . . it may be that the Libraries of Penacles hold the answer to divining its true meaning.”
VI
THE EMPEROR
THE ARMY OF LOCHIVAR spread out as the border neared. Under the dark helms, the fanatic eyes of the human warriors burned with eagerness to be unleashed upon their neighbor. Yet, not one attempted to push ahead; that meant certain execution. Their master had a plan in motion and they were to play their part at the proper moment, no sooner.
The mist circulated through the ranks as if a thinking creature, swirling around the nostrils and mouths of the fighters and thus making itself easier to inhale. The drake officers riding among the humans glanced here and there at various men, noting their breathing and their stance. The mist seemed to veer from the drakes themselves.
Farther back, other servants of the Black Dragon followed the march to the border of Penacles. Burly trolls represented those with the most in common with the humans. They wielded axes and long blades designed to chop through bone. As it did to the humans, the mist shrouded the trolls like lovers. The same sinister fire burned in the brown-skinned giants’ piggish eyes as the bestial warriors constantly breathed in the fog.
Behind them strode, crawled, or slithered a myriad group of beasts and more, vicious things gathered slowly over the generations by the current lord of Lochivar. Some had intelligence at least as cunning as the men and trolls, while others were simply weapons of destruction. Drake warriors rode among these, urging them forward with hissed commands and sharp whips.
Duke Ravos reined his riding drake to a halt. The Black Dragon’s heir sat taller than any of the others of his kind and his helm was adorned with a high, intricate crest perfectly resembling the roaring visage of a sly dragon. That visage was Ravos’s true face, one that even displayed so could make many look away in unease.
The riding drake hissed. Ravos silenced the animal, then gazed to his left. Despite the fact that nothing was visible, the duke steered his beast in that direction.
The army became shadows slipping behind him as he headed toward a faintly visible copse of skeletal trees. The drake lord’s forked tongue darted out as he approached, the only sign possibly belying his calm demeanor. One mailed hand slowly clenched, ready to unleash whatever power might be necessary.
As the wickedly barbed trees became a little clearer, so, too, did a shape just within the copse. It was tall, though not as tall as Ravos, and although cloaked, it was still clearly feminine.
Your Royal Highness . . . , said the voice in his head, its tone both respectful and yet, underneath, hinting of mockery.
“Leave my mind,” growled Ravos. “I warned you of that last time!”
“As you wish,” the silhouette replied in a low, throaty voice. “I merely thought here you might prefer our discussion to be more private.”
Ravos sneered. “The ears of a few soldiers or beasts mean nothing to me, especially when those ears can be easily removed.”
The duke spoke with a crispness and lack of sibilance more remarkable due to his crimson, forked tongue. Ravos was considered a throwback even among his own kind. More of the younger drakes had qualities that, for lack of a better word, were more human.
In the duke’s eyes, more human meant weaker.
The shadow coalesced more, becoming the necromancer Kadaria. That she bore great resemblance to something human did not make her weaker in Ravos’s eyes. He knew that she was something far more ancient, more versed in the arts, than even the Dragon Kings.
“The bargain is kept,”
she stated with a smile that made the three crimson bands on each side of Ravos’s throat pulsate. Those bands were a perfect match for the markings that had once denoted the egg from which he had hatched as containing a potential heir. All other drake eggs were unmarked and eggs such as Ravos’s were rare and prized. Even more rare was that he also bore those markings, for most hatchlings did not.
It was just one of several reasons the drake felt certain that destiny was on his side.
His fist loosened as he digested the good news. “The last obstruction is removed, then. The fools are in place.”
“And the secrets of the libraries will soon be open to us. Assuming all goes well for you.”
“Have no fear of that,” Ravos hissed. “Penacles shall again have a drake for a ruler and the lionbird’s head will decorate a pole.” He gestured at the misty landscape. “Upon my signal, my sire will allow the vapors to spread beyond Lochivar as they have never before.”
Kadaria’s face sank deeper into the shadows that formed most of her, but her amusement remained quite evident. “And does he know that the longer he makes use of the ‘gift’ we brought him the nearer he approaches death?”
“He is happy to have his power back. I thought it thus unnecessary to bother him with that detail.”
The necromancer chuckled. “We look forward to welcoming him to our domain.”
“And you are welcome to him.” The duke shifted in impatience. “The lionbird and his wizard friends are no doubt awaiting my appearance. There are a few things I must attend to before the attack is launched. You promise that the hooded one will also not interfere. See to it that he does not. He is the only question mark in my mind.”
“He is a question answered. He has concerns of his own.” She did not elaborate and Ravos, who knew nothing of the circumstances currently surrounding the sorcerer Shade, did not care. Everything he had learned about the Lords of the Dead had indicated that they were even more interested in keeping the legendary spellcaster contained than he was. From what he gathered, there was something very personal involved.
“So be it, then.” The duke did not bid her farewell, but rather simply turned his anxious drake around and headed back toward his mighty force. Whether she stayed or disappeared was of no concern to him. They were allies, but only due to their similar aims. They had made agreements both sides pretended were binding, but Ravos was under no misapprehension that the necromancers wouldn’t seek to betray him if they thought it better suited their goals. He knew that they assumed the same of him. It was a fair enough arrangement in his eyes.
It was fair enough, because he already knew just how and when he would betray them.
THE SKELETAL COPSE appeared empty, but Kadaria still remained, even if now hidden from mortal eyes. She observed Ravos’s vanishing into the mists and chuckled.
Another shadow separated from the trees, a shadow that took on a vague shape akin to hers, only more masculine. It did not coalesce as much as Kadaria, although she had no difficulty identifying which of her compatriots it was.
The fool of a lizard is not to be trusted to do his task . . .
He will do as much as he feels he needs to in order to achieve his goal, Zorane, she replied, her lips unmoving. Then he will plot his betrayal. That is all we require of him.
Zorane radiated satisfaction. It will all come together. Our dear cousin will pay for his transgressions against us . . .
Kadaria faded, becoming less substantial than even Zorane. The two of them had other matters to which to attend to ensure their success. The others would be waiting for word. And more important, through him, we shall reshape the world to our own design . . .
The necromancers departed.
The army marched on.
CHILL WINDS ROARED through the front chamber of the caverns, but the two male dragons paid no mind. They lay with their snouts facing the entrance and their fiery eyes wary slits observing all before them. Even among their kind, they had the semblance of twins and, indeed, they had been born in the same clutch. The pair were even of like minds, which made them all the more terrifying and powerful guardians to this mountainous abode.
In the gleam of torches set in the walls to their sides, their otherwise dusky green scales glittered with the touch of gold. The tail of the leviathan to the right shifted back and forth slightly, but otherwise the only movement from either was their slow but constant breathing.
Both dragons abruptly raised their heads, their eyes wide, alert, and fearsome. Two toothy mouths gaped open.
Flames shot forth from the pair, bathing the area before them with such heat that the ground there glazed.
As one, the dragons ceased their assault. Wisps of smoke continued to rise from the scorched area, but the reason for their sudden fury remained unseen.
“Faras. Ssgayn,” came a feminine voice echoing throughout the chamber. “You know me.”
For once, the dragons did not act as if a single creature. The one on the left looked hesitant, while the other hissed warily.
Valea materialized in the center of the burned area. The heat would have still been enough to take her breath if not for her magic. She confronted the two titans without fear, even smiling.
“Lady Valea,” rumbled the one on the left.
“Ssgayn. I’ve missed both of you.”
The other dragon still eyed her mistrustfully. “You should not be here, Lady Valea! There hasss been no word of your coming!”
“Doesss it matter?” argued the first dragon. “She isss Lady Valea! He would wish to sssee her!”
Ssgayn’s companion snapped at him, although clearly not with any true intent of harm. “We mussst let no one pass!”
“Faras . . .” Valea approached the reluctant beast. “Ask him. Ask if I may have an audience. A brief one.”
“Thisss isss not right.”
“She isss Lady Valea!” Ssgayn said again. “He will want to know she wasss here . . .”
The two argued for a moment more, then Faras finally growled, “Very well.”
Ssgayn shut his eyes. Faras resumed his untrusting observation of the human.
Despite her air of assurance, Valea was not certain that she would be allowed to pass. Still, she had dared seek out the pair’s lord more directly, for this place had defenses far more devious than two dragons and certainly far less caring of any past relationship. Ssgayn and Faras knew her from old, had even been raised alongside her back at the Manor.
Ssgayn opened his eyes again, a strange look in them. Before Valea could judge what that look meant, a figure materialized between the dragons.
“Valea!” In contrast to the guardians, the newcomer literally welcomed her with open arms.
The other female was young, but otherwise there was little similarity between Valea and her. The enchantress was not short, but still the raven-tressed figure before her stood taller and was voluptuous in the best definition of the word. She had the appearance of an elf in regard to her features. Valea had once been very jealous of that perfect face, even if it was as much the creation of magic as nature. However, knowing this golden-clad woman as she did, Valea only felt a rush of pleasure and relief. She returned the hug with as much vigor as her new companion.
“Ursa!” With all that was going on, it had not dawned on her that she would see her most beloved friend, though that should have been obvious since Ursa was also Kyl’s sister.
Not to mention also sibling to the two dragons still looming over them.
Ursa turned to face the guardians. “I will take her to see him.”
Both dragons’ expressions changed to what could only be relief. Simultaneously, they began to shrink. Their tails dissolved and their wings withered away. They rose up on their hind legs, which straightened. The forelegs shrank more, becoming arms ending in hands.
As Valea eyed Ssgayn, his shriveling visage slid upward. In its wake it left the familiar, half-hidden face beneath the helm of a humanoid drake warrior. The dragon head became th
e crest, albeit not nearly so elegant a one as a Dragon King would wear.
Faras and Ssgayn bowed low to Valea, then stepped apart to let the two females pass. The warriors now wielded long swords, creations of their magic. Those swords would cease to exist when they transformed back to their original shapes. Whether as a dragon or a warrior, a drake was ever armed.
“We do our duty,” Faras said insistently as Ursa led Valea beyond them.
“The emperor will know that,” the drake female promised with a touch of reassurance.
As soon as they were out of hearing of the pair, Valea murmured, “Surely, they’ve redeemed themselves for their past error. In the end, they chose to remain loyal to Kyl and not Toma . . .”
“He has forgiven them. They may not ever do so themselves.”
Valea said nothing more on the subject, for they began passing other sentinels guarding the caverns of the Dragon Emperor. Many of these already stood in the form of warriors, who pretended not to notice the scarlet-tressed figure walking beside Ursa. They were all aware of the Bedlams and some of them had even been raised at the Manor themselves.
The enchantress noted among them those that bore no trace of gold in their scaly armor, but rather more a forest green. The imperial clan had been decimated during the previous emperor’s obsessive hunt of a young Cabe Bedlam and had not yet recovered sufficiently. While most of the remaining Dragon Kings had supplied warriors to their new emperor, the majority had come from the Dagora Forest and Lord Green. Valea’s father felt that Green had too much influence on Kyl but had done nothing. The relationship between the wizard and that Dragon King was a troubled one made even more so by their children.
All thought of her brother’s part in that vanished as Valea entered the grand chamber. Much of the cavern greatly predated the Dragon Kings and had been utilized by earlier rulers of the land. One of those had left gigantic stone figures of various beings, some recognizable, some not. Valea could sense the deep magic within each, magic she felt had some specific purpose. Yet, even the eventual collapse of some of those statues due to tremors and time had revealed nothing.
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade Page 8