Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade

by Richard A. Knaak

  Not until I have some proper Vraad bones to wear . . .

  Cabe’s daughter understood. “He wants your body!”

  “A poor thing it will be to him.” Still, despite all that was happening to the sorcerer’s body, he had no desire to give it up just yet, especially to his eldest and most sinister brother.

  Reegan surged forward, the avalanche coming with him. Shade was forced to draw even more upon Valea. Even then, he felt his physical being losing cohesion.

  “Drop!” Shade commanded. As the two of them fell, the hooded sorcerer adjusted the spell so that it carried both the avalanche and his brother far past them.

  Reegan’s roar of anger faded as the phantasm flew far beyond. A few small rocks pelted the pair, but the rest of the attack missed.

  Shade pulled Valea up. “We must try to teleport!”

  He felt her agreement and the surge of energy flowing from her to him. He focused.

  They materialized in what could have been the same spot save that there was no hint of Reegan when Shade searched with his senses.

  Very good, little brother . . .

  Reegan punctuated his remark with the harsh laugh that remained burned into Shade’s memory after millennia. In the dark, the phantasm seemed to be nowhere and everywhere.

  Valea drew a circle. The circle rapidly swelled in size. It split into a dozen circles as it grew. Those circles shot forth in a dozen directions.

  And in one of those directions, a circle passed through Reegan,

  revealing now in ghostly gold the dragon the heir to Clan Tezerenee had become.

  She’s a pretty one! Reegan jested.

  Not bothering to answer, Shade seized control of her spell, bringing the circle back. As it passed over Reegan again, it adhered to his damned spirit.

  The dragon roared angrily. Reegan glowed a brighter gold and the circle began to deteriorate.

  Agony wracked Shade, but it was not part of Reegan’s attack. The stricken warlock did not have to be able to see his hand to know that he was more likely to dissolve now than his brother was.

  At least—at least he will not have my body! Yet, Shade knew that Valea would still not be safe. Reegan never gave up a hunt until all his prey was down.

  It’s been so good to see my brothers, but now it ends for you, little Gerrod! jested the dragon. I’ll wear you well . . .

  Shade found he was far less concerned with himself—perhaps having failed so many times had taken its toll—but he knew that Reegan would not let Valea be. A Vraad was raised to assume that anything he could take, even by force, was his, and that included other, lesser creatures. More to the point, Reegan had been raised as the heir to his father, the worst of the Vraad that Shade could think of.

  Straightening, he faced the fiendish spirit. “Gerrod is no more already!” the hooded sorcerer shouted defiantly. “There is only a soul more damned than yours!”

  Forcefully breaking the link with Valea in order to ensure that she was not caught up in his spell, Shade threw all that was left in him at Reegan.

  A gargantuan, bearded warrior materialized before the dragon. Reegan recoiled as the warrior, the same one the warlock had once shown to Valea, grinned savagely at him.

  No one forgets Father . . . , Shade thought wryly. However, the image was only designed to disconcert the spirit and enable Shade to launch his true attack. He drew a pair of arrows in the air; they became bolts of black energy that shot toward his brother.

  But Reegan recovered faster than expected. He managed to twist and thus evade one of the bolts. The second struck a wing.

  Despite being incorporeal, the spirit roared in pain as the bolt shot through, and the black energies spread along the wound, soon covering most of the wing.

  My little brother’s found a spine! Despite the crackling wound, Reegan once more dove for Shade. The warlock’s body would provide him with an escape from the pain.

  Valea suddenly stood between them. “Keep away from him!”

  She unleashed an emerald net that clung to the dragon. Unfortunately, although it clearly pained him, too, Reegan did not slow.

  One chance . . . I have one chance . . . Shade formed a fist from his fading hands. If his magic could not stop the phantasm, perhaps the sacrifice of his very essence would be sufficient. It would be a better end for him, at least, if it saved Valea.

  A wondrous, shimmering light filled the area but especially focused on the specter. Reegan’s agonized roar now dwarfed those previous. Fragments of the dragon literally crumbled away as the iridescence bathed the fiend.

  Iridescence. Shade struggled to turn. The source of the light could not be seen, but he felt certain that it could have come from only one thing.

  Reegan shrieked. The dragon twisted in on itself as more and more of it broke away and dissolved. Nooo! I will have both of you—

  The last of the insidious spirit disintegrated. Shade felt rather than heard Reegan’s last mournful wail. Even then, he felt no sympathy.

  Stay dead now, Reegan. Just stay dead . . .

  Adrenaline had driven Shade as much as anything else and now, with the threat no more, the sorcerer felt his body giving out. He could see through both hands and knew that the rest of his body had to be fading as well. The world began to spin around.

  “Shade!” Valea took hold of him.

  I will slip right through her, the featureless sorcerer thought. I will slip through her and dissipate not much differently than Reegan . . .

  “Come with me! Hold on! Come with me!”

  He was grateful for her determination, even if it was for nothing. Still, to make her feel better, Shade allowed her to lead him on.

  How long the journey took, the weakening sorcerer could not say. He only knew that at some point they were both bathed in a softer variation of the iridescence that had destroyed Reegan.

  I will dissolve now . . . But instead of sharing his brother’s fate, Shade slowly began to feel more solidity. The haziness in his mind receded.

  His vision focused again. He eyed his hands, once more solid.

  “The stone did it,” whispered Valea in his ear. “He was right. At least for now, you’re in balance again.”

  He was right.

  The Crystal Dragon. She meant the Crystal Dragon. I know his secret now, Shade thought as his senses sharpened. Following an urge, he blurted out, “I know your secret!”

  He waited for the Dragon King’s reply, but there was none. Instead, Shade finally noticed the stone . . . the stone that was lying on the ground.

  The stone that was lying on the ground next to the unmoving body of the drake lord.

  “I understand,” the enchantress replied to someone the sorcerer evidently did not hear. Apparently satisfied that he was well enough to stand alone, Valea left Shade and bent down to retrieve the stone.

  “He lives,” she said of the Crystal Dragon at the same time. “I think he’s been like that for some time.”

  “But not when he first entered. He stayed conscious and moved on, seeking our goal.” Shade studied the sprawled form. Had his features been distinct, he knew that Valea might have seen the satisfied smile that briefly crept there upon seeing the results of the drake’s arrogance.

  Then what Valea had been saying earlier finally registered in him. “Who has been talking with you? Who guided you?”

  Valea did not answer. She held the stone with awe but also with confidence. With her other hand, she gestured toward the Crystal Dragon.

  At first, it looked as if she sought to levitate the body, but then Shade saw a tiny speck fly from the Crystal Dragon. As it escaped, it grew into an object familiar at least to the sorcerer, for it had the stench of the Vraad on it.

  The tiny container shattered and a black blob flowed free. It poured to the ground in four spots and created columns that shaped into legs attached to a massive torso, out of which formed a thick tail and a strong, equine head.

  Darkhorse snorted furiously. “Free of that abominat
ion! Free!” He faced the Dragon King, his ice-blue eyes radiating cold fire. “By the Void! This is the end of one drake I truly look forward to.”

  “No!” Valea sounded as if she were reprimanding a child. “You won’t touch him!”

  The shadow steed tore at the ground, gouging it deeply. He took another step, then hesitated. “He should pay! He should pay!”

  “No, Darkhorse. Leave it be. For me.”

  The eternal let out another frustrated snort before finally nodding. “Very well.” His inhuman gaze fixed on Shade. “A curious thing to find you with this one.”

  “I am not your enemy, Darkhorse . . . this time.”

  “Words I learned could be as true as they could be false!” Darkhorse peered at the crimson-tressed enchantress. “If you trust him, I shall . . . for now.”

  “Help us, then.” She pointed at the Dragon King. “Carry him for us.”

  “Carry him? Rather would I leave him for whatever predator might be nearby and carry you back to your parents, who must be concerned.”

  The eternal’s comment about the elder Bedlams caused Valea to look sad for a moment. Almost immediately, though, the enchantress steeled herself. “They must wait. Please, Darkhorse, carry him until he awakes.”

  “What of you? I can carry you, also.” Darkhorse kicked at the ground before adding, “And Shade, too, if I must.”

  “I will walk,” the warlock responded.

  Valea stepped closer to Shade. “I’ll be walking, too.”

  With a curious glance at the duo, Darkhorse finally shook his head and returned his attention to the Crystal Dragon. Out of his chest burst two appendages whose ends shaped into crude, three-fingered hands. The new arms stretched down until the huge hands were able to seize up the prostrate drake.

  As if he always had such limbs, Darkhorse easily hefted the Crystal Dragon up and onto his back. The eternal’s torso reshaped itself so that the body would not slip off.

  The arms sank back into the body. Darkhorse looked to the others. “Where do we head? I have no familiarity with this place! Where is it?”

  Shade allowed Valea to answer, the better to hopefully gain more of the eternal’s trust. Darkhorse would be more willing to help if he saw that the enchantress needed to follow this through.

  But why should she? Why don’t she and Darkhorse just leave?

  The simple answer was that neither of them would dare leave Shade to continue his quest out of fear of what the consequences might be for the Dragonrealm. The more complicated answer was far too discomfiting for even the ageless sorcerer to contemplate.

  Darkhorse let out a more surprised snort. “So! I had wondered about much of what you’ve mentioned and even trapped I sensed a peculiar change, one that seemed to weaken the Vraad trap until I could feel your presence better, Valea!”

  “And a good thing for all of us,” she replied, starting to lead the way at the same time.

  Under the eternal’s watchful eye, Shade joined her. The stone continued to illuminate their immediate surroundings. Shade considered adjusting his vision but in this odd place was hesitant to cast any such spell. One never knew what else it might affect.

  A shiver suddenly ran through him. Even though the night sky was completely black, Shade knew that once more they were not alone.

  “It’s passed over us again!” he hissed.

  Valea, her face screwed up in concentration, held the stone up. Its astounding illumination rose skyward.

  There was a glimpse of a gargantuan feathered form. Merely a tantalizing glimpse. A thing of fire-red and orange.

  Valea tried to follow its flight but could no longer find the creature. Shade added more illumination of his own, but it was clear that the mysterious creature was gone.

  Darkhorse shifted uneasily. “What happened? What are you two doing?”

  “That thing has been tracking us since just before we passed through,” Valea explained. “I thought it was that—that specter following us.”

  Darkhorse studied Shade with suspicion. “The Vraad were monsters, no exception, but them I could sense! I felt and saw nothing now! Tell me what you saw!”

  Shade described it as best he could, but Darkhorse still looked perplexed. For all his unique ability, the eternal had been unable to either hear, see, or feel the creature.

  “What have the founders left to guard this place?” Shade finally asked, voicing what he knew Valea was also thinking.

  “Is it these founders or something serving another master?” Darkhorse retorted. “From what you say, this place is near the ruins of Azran’s citadel! He, too, no doubt searched for this! It can be no coincidence that he set his sanctum so close to this area.”

  “And yet, he obviously didn’t find it,” the enchantress said. “It could be something that served him, but I don’t believe that. I think you would’ve sensed such a creation, Darkhorse.”

  “Very true, but there are also the Lords of the Dead to consider, then!”

  Shade shook his head. “No. They would not send Reegan’s foul spirit and another such fiend. To control both would be difficult. Magic does not always work the same in this sliver of a world.”

  A slight hiss came from the eternal’s back. Darkhorse twisted his head completely around. “The Dragon King stirs!” Flaps of Darkhorse’s torso slipped over the drake, binding him to the shadowy stallion’s back. “If he makes even the slightest threat, I will absorb him and be done with it!”

  The threat was not an idle one. To be absorbed into the eternal was to fall forever in darkness, screaming all the way. Shade highly respected Darkhorse’s power.

  “Do nothing of the sort unless I say so,” Valea said. “At the very least, we may need him.” Unspoken was that she was not the type to condemn even the Crystal Dragon to such a fate unless he forced her to.

  Darkhorse was undaunted. “No Dragon King can be trusted even so much as—”

  Bright light filled their eyes. Darkhorse cried out.

  As abruptly as it had come, the night ceased. Yet, in doing so, it had some effect on the shadow steed that no one could have predicted. Darkhorse completely melted, his body becoming a great, oozing mass. The body of the Dragon King rolled to the side.

  Valea immediately dropped near what was left of the eternal. Shade joined her, equally stunned by what had happened. The pocket worlds forged by the founding race were ever different and did not always follow the same laws of nature.

  “Darkhorse!” Valea reached toward the mass, but Shade grabbed her hand before it could touch. As unstable as the eternal was, even a slight touch might condemn Valea to the fate the shadow steed had earlier suggested for the drake lord.

  “I am—it is—passing!” Darkhorse’s voice started as a croak but grew stronger quickly. “I—this world—it was as if some force tried to tear me to pieces . . .”

  As he spoke, the ebony stallion re-formed himself. The two spellcasters stepped back, giving him room. The eternal returned to his favored shape, shaking his mane when he was finished.

  “I am well again!” Darkhorse looked past them. Even equine, he evinced absolute surprise.

  Shade and Valea whirled, the sorcerer thinking that perhaps the creature had returned.

  The tower loomed over them.

  XX

  THE NECROMANCERS

  THE DEFENDERS OF PENACLES were excellent, just as Duke Ravos had expected and hoped. As he cut through a daring soldier foolishly hoping to down Lochivar’s heir, the drake relished the battle thus far. He wished that it could go on much, much longer—with Lochivar triumphant in the end, naturally—but suddenly his sire’s voice echoed in his head. The Black Dragon’s overexuberance nearly cost Ravos a nasty wound from a pikeman. The duke signaled two of his guards to take his position as he reined back his beast.

  Ravos would have preferred to contact the Dragon King as he had prior, but his sire was insistent. The Black Dragon’s mental voice, always still representative of the rasping nature of his physical
one, allowed little room for concentration, something the heir needed at the moment.

  The path isss breached! The time isss imminent!

  The scaled duke appreciated that significant knowledge but had to hold back his irritation at his sire’s lack of concern for anything else. Still, well-shielded from the Black Dragon was Ravos’s thought that the news presaged the duke’s own grand plans coming to fruition.

  I am pleased for you, Father, he responded with the utmost respect. Soon, you will achieve your full glory again!

  Soon, yes . . .

  The Black Dragon broke the link. Ravos inhaled deeply to clear the madness of his father from his thoughts. He studied the pitched battle. Two dragons flew overhead, seeking to tear into the defenders. One of them swept down and threw half a dozen screaming men into the air.

  The second never had the opportunity, for a massive metal ball with long, sharp spikes collided with him. The ebony behemoth roared as some of the points penetrated his scaly hide. Momentum sent the dragon hurtling back beyond Lochivar’s own lines.

  The stalemate continues, thought Ravos. Perfect.

  He barked a command to a drake officer, then turned his mount from the chaos. Pushing back farther, Ravos spotted another drake, a trusted ally in his ambitions . . . an ally willing to sacrifice himself for the good of Ravos.

  The other drake nodded ever so slightly as the duke closed. Ravos rode up to him. The two turned their mounts toward one another and as they did, the officer took on Ravos’s guise while Ravos took on his. The other drake moved on toward the front, while the masked duke departed from the view of any in the army.

  But as he abandoned the field, a figure approached from the dankest part of the mists. The figure was no warrior of Lochivar, but rather a pale soldier from Penacles. He, too, carried a sword, albeit a much smaller one. Like the duke’s weapon, it was well covered in blood.

  “The blood on this sword belongs to Penacles,” the soldier remarked in a dry, toneless voice. “The blood of three.”

  Ravos lowered the sword. “Which one are you?”