Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade

by Richard A. Knaak

  Ignoring the threat to himself, Shade formed a ball of green energy in his palm. He tossed it at the Necri occupied with the enchantress.

  His own foe fell upon him before he could see if his attack would succeed. The demon’s fetid breath assailed Shade as the creature threw him back. Shade struck the floor hard, the collision jarring every bone.

  But if the Necri thought to stun him or do worse, its masters had not fully taught it about Shade. For someone who had died a thousand and more violent ways, the collision was a momentary agony at best. That meant that the sorcerer was able to get hand up to the Necri’s throat and keep the demon from tearing out his face with its teeth.

  “Shade . . .” it rasped. “Shade . . . you will not have the stone . . . you will fail here again . . .”

  He wanted to demand to know what the beast meant, but had to concern himself with surviving the moment. Shade had no idea what would happen next if he perished here and did not want to find out.

  His hand glowed. Magical energies created extensions to his fingers and thumb until they completely encircled the Necri’s throat.

  The teeth drew nearer. Drops of venom stung his cheek.

  Shade squeezed.

  The stench of the Necri’s breath ceased. The deathly eyes unfocused.

  Ichor dribbled over Shade’s chest as the Necri’s head toppled on top of him. He knocked aside the stinking head and then kicked the body aside.

  His first view beyond was of Valea using the Necri’s own wings to tightly bind it. That did not keep it from continuing to charge her, but now Edrin and another dwarf tackled the demon, sending it falling at her feet.

  Valea glanced her way . . . and vehemently shook her head. She put a hand to her face, then pointed at him.

  Shade clutched at the medallion beneath his shirt and even through his gloves felt the ichor that drenched the area.

  Once more, the spellwork had been disrupted.

  He tried to cast both of them away, but the protective spells of the dwarven caverns still prevented that. Valea gestured toward the doors and the bolt suddenly slid open.

  Go! she mouthed. When he hesitated, the enchantress gestured again . . . and Shade found himself sliding through just as the doors opened.

  Shouts arose within, but whether they had to do with his unplanned flight or the Necri, he could not say. Shade continued to slide for several yards before Valea’s spell ended.

  A part of the sorcerer cried for him to flee, but another part demanded that he go back for her. However, until he could reestablish the medallion’s power, his presence near Valea would only condemn her. She still had a chance if he could stay clear.

  With reluctance, the sorcerer started down the passage. However, barely had he gone a few yards when he felt an immense tug back.

  The Crystal Dragon’s other spell still held. Shade could go little farther. Each succeeding step proved more and more an ordeal. He was grateful that he was still in the fairly unused corridor, for at the moment he would have been hard-pressed to confront any foe.

  What games do you play, Dragon King? Shade silently swore as he tried to decide his next move. Do you want the tower or not?

  He could think of only one recourse. Cabe Bedlam’s daughter would be furious, but that was a minor point at the moment.

  Shade focused on the enchantress.

  “Ungh!” Valea Bedlam materialized crouched as if about to fend off some attack. She froze for the space of a breath as the abrupt change in location struck her.

  He seized her hand just as she turned in his direction. “Come! This way!”

  “What’re you doing? You should’ve fled when you could!”

  “The Dragon King’s spell!”

  Her expression indicated that she had also forgotten it. “Where do we go, then? We can’t simply transport ourselves out of here!”

  “No, but we may be able to move around within the caverns.” Shade hesitated, glad for the moment that his curse hid his features. “There may be a reason why we ended up here. I believe our devious ally wanted us brought into the dwarven realm.”

  “I wondered.” The commotion began to die down in the sealed chamber. “They’ve finally destroyed it. They’ll be coming out in a minute.”

  “Brace yourself.” He concentrated on the caverns, trying to dredge up some memory of the place from the distant past. It was a desperate hope, but—

  An image formed in his head. He fixed on it.

  They stood in utter darkness. Shade prepared to illuminate their surroundings when the worms began to gather from their holes. Slowly, the duo were able to make out details.

  “Oh!” Valea instinctively pressed against him.

  He could not blame her for the reaction. Around them lay tons of rubble, including chunks of rock several times their height. The remnants of gigantic stalactites lay crumpled among the other fragments of the cavern ceiling.

  Worse, half-buried in the rubble stood pieces of what had once been part of the dwarven community. The ruined frames of several common structures could be spotted here and there. That they had also been carved from stone had not saved them from the immense collapse.

  “What happened here?” she breathed. “Did you—?”

  “No.” Shade could not remember what had taken place here, but felt certain somehow that he had not been responsible, at least not directly. “No . . . I was here, though. I remember that. I remember the dwarves were my friends then.”

  He waited for more, but a darkness as deep as that which had first surrounded him obscured the rest of the memories. Shade tried to be patient, although he knew that they had little time. The dwarves would soon be on the hunt for them.

  Valea strode toward one of the structures. The violence with which it had been hit was more evident. “Do you know—did everyone escape?”

  Shade did not answer her, not because he did not know, but because he did. Valea paled.

  Shade grimaced. While the scene before them was an arresting one, it served them no purpose. They had to find their way out.

  A side passage caught his interest. It was untraversable, but stirred another recollection. He had come here because of a possible trail leading to the tower . . .

  You will not have the stone . . .

  “The stone,” he muttered. “The stone.”

  “What stone?” The enchantress rejoined him. “What are you remembering?” She put a supporting hand on his shoulder. “Think!”

  “The stone,” he repeated. Shade could almost see it. A tiny speck, a pebble at most, truly. Its exact details continued to be elusive, though, and the sorcerer knew that if he did not recall those, the rest was useless.

  “It is you!” roared a furious voice from far to his left. They turned to see Edrin, Magron, and a score of dwarven fighters, both male and female. They stared at Shade as if he were a thing fouler than the Necri . . . which, to them, he was.

  “Magron saw yer face fade away!” Edrin went on, his axe held ready. “The girl tried to hide that, but he saw it afore you went flying away! We know you now, you demonspawn, you blackest of warlocks! We know you, Shade!”

  The dwarves spread out as their leader spoke. Shade heard the shifting of rock from other directions and knew that more warriors were wending their way into the shattered chamber from other passages.

  “Couldn’t stay away, even after centuries, eh?” Edrin had something else in his other hand, a small object that remained hidden by his fingers. “Now the king’ll be avenged!”

  “It’s not what you—” Valea could get no further, for suddenly she doubled over in agony. Shade likewise suffered. Outwardly, they simply looked ill; inside, the sorcerer felt his link to magic literally being eradicated. It felt worse than if someone was tearing his heart out while he still lived.

  “See to the girl! We’ve no argument with the Bedlams and she may be under a geas! The rest of you close in on him! He ain’t goin’ to try anythin’ in the shape he’s in!”

  Edri
n spoke with confidence concerning the last part and Shade could not blame him. This was a different, so very ancient magic, different from almost anything he had ever experienced.

  Different from almost anything . . .

  The stone.

  Shade forced his head up. He caught a faint glimpse of something pale yet filled with color in Edrin’s palm. More memories returned. A hunt for this stone. The king’s mind turned by some outside influence into believing that Shade was the enemy. The fire arising from a spell the dwarven monarch had created using the stone, not from any nefarious effort by the sorcerer.

  “He carries it,” Shade managed to say to Valea. “He—”

  The agony coursing through him magnified. Without thinking, he grabbed for her hand.

  His own hand went through hers.

  “Gerrod!” she called from what seemed a thousand miles away.

  Without the medallion and under assault by the magic Edrin wielded, Shade’s body could not remain stable. He tried to concentrate, but failed.

  Then, the dwarf’s attack ceased. Shade let out a tremendous gasp and looked up to see Edrin grabbing for a burly, dark-haired warrior rushing past him. The unknown dwarf gripped an axe in one hand; the other was tightly shut around some tiny object.

  Shade did not need to guess what was in that hand.

  Howls broke out among the dwarves at this betrayal. The traitor paid them no mind, even grinning as he raced toward the pair.

  The sorcerer managed to straighten. His hand solidified. He looked at Valea, who, though fighting for breath, also appeared to be recovering.

  But just before the dwarf could reach them, the entire cavern shook violently. Shade thought it the fault of either Edrin or perhaps the mysterious dwarf, but from the looks of both, this was something unexpected.

  Parts of the ceiling cracked free. Dwarves scattered in every direction. Two guards pulled a struggling Edrin back.

  A huge block smashed into the floor just before the traitor, cutting off his path. As he wended around it, another short, muscular form tackled him.

  “Who be you?” Edrin’s twin roared at the betrayer as he fought for the stone. “What clan are you?”

  The mysterious dwarf said nothing. He released his axe and held his palm toward Magron.

  With a roar of frustration, Magron went flying.

  The quake intensified. In fact, to Shade’s estimate, it seemed to be centering more and more on the area where he, Valea, and the dwarf were located.

  “The land . . .” he managed. “It must be . . .”

  With astonishing nimbleness for one of his kind, the newcomer flipped back to his feet and continued to the trio.

  “If you two have any trust in your power, you’ll focus it on this!”

  He opened his palm to reveal the stone . . . or what was more than simply a stone. It was iridescent in a manner that transcended the finest pearl, almost as if the colors existed on a level beyond the stone’s physical surface.

  Before Shade could come to grips with more resurrected memories, the dwarf grabbed his hand and led it over the stone. With his head, he gestured to Valea to quickly do the same.

  The ground erupted, sending all three of them to their knees.

  “Keep your hands near the stone!” the dwarf roared. A heavy chunk of rock the size of his head landed within a yard. To Shade, he said, “You must cast thisss!”

  A spell matrix blossomed full in the sorcerer’s head. Shade instantly understood that only his ancient, unique form of magic could make this possible . . . and only with the stone.

  A horrific groaning above gave warning that the already-ravaged ceiling was further ripping apart. There would be nothing left of the vast chamber this time.

  Summoning his remaining concentration, Shade cast.

  What sounded like thunder roared in his ears. A growing shadow overwhelmed the three. The ceiling was nearly upon them.

  They vanished.

  At the last moment, Shade felt another mind infiltrate his and try to take command of the spell. He fought to retain mastery.

  It was as if he and the rest were caught in some maelstrom. Shade tried his best to keep some link to Valea. They had escaped the cavern, but he had no idea anymore what was happening to them.

  Shade collided with something hard. He rolled over, then felt what had to be Valea’s body land partly atop his own. The sorcerer tried to make a grab for her, but his limbs would not yet obey him.

  Slowly, everything calmed. Shade discovered he could breathe again. He had not even been aware that he had stopped breathing until then.

  Harsh cold struck him. Shade’s eyes snapped open.

  The razor-sharp beak of a Seeker sought his face.

  XIV

  THE MISTS OF WAR

  THE SCOUTS BROUGHT the news to King Melicard just as the signal for the brief rest to end sounded. Melicard wished that he could have given his men more time, but previous reports about the Red Dragon’s army had not been promising. He expected this report to be no less troubling.

  It proved even worse than he’d imagined. The drake lord’s forces had made frightening headway through Wenslis, where Melicard had hoped that they would be bogged down. They would reach Penacles and join up with Black’s army long before Melicard’s men.

  Summoning an aide, the lord of Talak ordered an increased pace. It was too little to make up for the drakes’ advantage, but it was all he could ask of his troops. They would be no good if they were too weak to fight.

  We need some miracle! We need—

  His horse started. Next to him appeared none other than Cabe Bedlam. The wizard’s youthful image momentarily frustrated the king, although he held no animosity toward the spellcaster himself.

  “If you’ve come to tell me we’re well behind the Red Dragon’s army, I already know.”

  “That was one point, though I assumed you might already have heard. I’ve given warning to Gwen. They’ll do what they can to stave things off and I’ll be returning soon.”

  There was something in the wizard’s tone that bothered the king. “What else?”

  “My daughter is missing.” Cabe went into a quick summary of his search for Valea, including his concern that Shade was involved. One of the reasons that the Bedlams and the Gryphon had pushed to capture Shade was the fact that with the moves by Black and Red there would be no time to deal with the warlock’s unpredictability.

  The king nodded solemnly at the news. “I wish there was something I could do. Perhaps Erini might be of help.”

  “I’ve already come from her. I’d hoped that Darkhorse might be near. He’s fond of both of them, but the queen’s heard nothing from either.”

  “Nothing?” Melicard hid his dismay. “The eternal is missing, also?”

  “He may be with Valea.” Cabe exhaled. “At least, I hope so.” The wizard steeled himself. “I’ll see what can be done about Red’s army. Even a small delay will help.”

  “Anything might. Fare you well, Cabe Bedlam.”

  The moment the spellcaster vanished, Melicard struck his fist against his thigh in frustration. He wanted to shout out his anger at whatever spirits were wreaking havoc on his life.

  Darkhorse is missing. For the lord of Penacles, that was worse news than even that the enchantress was nowhere to be found. The Bedlams had one another. Erini only had him, and Melicard was useless to her now.

  A warning blared. Melicard stirred from his darkening thoughts to see a huge, crimson form darting through the sky from the clouds above.

  The lone dragon soared directly toward the column. Melicard did not even have to give the order for his men to start positioning themselves. Most had grown up under the clawed fist of a Dragon King. Most hated the drakes nearly as much as he did.

  Launchers akin to those protecting Penacles were already coming into position. Some of the huge shafts had surprises attached to them that would make for particularly ugly wounds. Dragons were no longer the invincible monsters most had
once thought. That myth had been fading since the days of the Dragon Masters even despite their eventual demise.

  Melicard drew his sword and rode toward the nearest launcher. “Aim steady! Wait until your shot is good!”

  At least two other launchers were now primed. The king frowned. Either the dragon was mad or there was some trick coming. He peered into the sky but saw nothing but more clouds.

  Could it be? Melicard suddenly wondered. He swore at his own naïveté and tried to duck from what he belatedly knew was coming.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Melicard saw the dragon immediately pull up.

  As the beast did, the bolt from the assassin caught the king in the back. Even despite his sturdy armor, the bolt penetrated. Melicard vaguely understood that it could not have done so without the powerful magic of a Dragon King.

  He keeled off his horse.

  AND OVER ANOTHER location far to the south, the roar of another dragon filled the air. The roar was countered by the blare of a dozen unified battle horns from the northwest.

  Penacles and Lochivar went to war.

  The bearded warriors of the mist-enshrouded land of the Black Dragon surged forward, their ranks fortified by the drake fighters astride great, reptilian mounts. Above, dragons Cabe Bedlam identified as airdrakes soared toward the city, they the first line of attack.

  “Ravos knows we’ll be ready for those,” Gwen said to Troia. “It must be a feint.”

  “General Marner is prepared for them,” the Gryphon’s mate replied. She studied the enchantress. “Cabe will find your daughter and be back here soon.”

  Gwen felt guilty. “Your husband still lies unconscious and I’m turning your concern elsewhere. Marner and his men can’t afford our distraction. Without either of our husbands’ help, we must support the soldiers and the city.”

  “We must.” A rumble that was not thunder shook the palace. “It’s begun.”

  Nodding, the enchantress gestured at the large emerald sphere before them. In it, they could watch every aspect of the battle and interact with it.