Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade

by Richard A. Knaak

  But why, Erini? Why?

  The stricken monarch abruptly lurched forward, heading not toward the tower but somewhere south of it. “This way. I’ve got to go this way.”

  She followed after him, her mind already trying to calculate what their purpose was. It occurred to her that this might merely be another foul trick by the Lords, but something felt different.

  “There.”

  Peering past Melicard, Valea gasped. A haze spread across the land, one with no natural cause. She knew even without seeing them that the necromancers stood just ahead. They would have formed their matrix in order to amplify their spellwork. Their concentration would be on the tower and its masters.

  Valea pondered. Erini had been a powerful enchantress. She had retained some will even while coming here at the command of the necromancers. The queen had realized that there was one last thing she could do and had used her husband to guide Valea to the spot so that the enchantress could disrupt the spellwork at some critical juncture. That had to be it, Cabe’s daughter believed. Even now, Valea could feel the Lords’ effort building up. As powerful as the land was, it could not hold against the might the necromancers had gathered.

  Whatever the threat the land itself presented, to Valea it paled before the horrifying world the Lords of the Dead would create. There would never again be hope for life, only an eternal damnation of all that existed.

  But as she prepared to sacrifice herself, Melicard suddenly lurched in another direction. Before she could stop him, the king stumbled into the growing mists.

  Aware that she still had a few moments, Valea rushed after him. For her final, selfless act, Queen Erini deserved for her husband to be saved, if that was possible. Certainly, Valea had to try.

  Before he could completely vanish, the enchantress followed. She dared not call out, but Melicard’s erratic path enabled her to close the gap. Valea reached him just as he finished descending a small hill.

  “Your Majesty,” she whispered. “You have to stay back!”

  Melicard suddenly reached to where his sword would have hung. His entire body stiffened and his gaze narrowed at something ahead.

  Valea squinted, then raised her hands in preparation of a spell she knew that she would not have time to finish.

  Jaws wide, the dragon loomed over them.

  XXVI

  UNEASY ALLIANCES

  THE FACELESS FIGURES gathered on a hill not far from the tower. From their vantage point, they observed without eyes the efforts of the necromancers to seize control. The ghosts continued to flow through the tear into the pocket world, adding to the Lords’ might.

  The dullness that marked the necromancers’ spell spread over the last parts of the tower. At that point, there came a shift in the magical energies, as the Lords sought to begin their manipulation of the mechanism within.

  The faceless ones watched without eyes but with immense satisfaction.

  THEY HAVE DONE it . . . they have taken it! Shade could not believe that the tower would fall to the Lords of the Dead so readily and yet, the evidence was all around him.

  Shade’s focus suddenly shifted in a direction he once would have never expected. Valea filled his thoughts. He felt the urge to return to her and flee the tower.

  But Shade did neither. He looked to the Crystal Dragon, then to the dwarves.

  The hooded sorcerer cast over his head. A faint blue aura spread across the chamber, enveloping the area that included the mechanism and Shade. The Lords of the Dead still controlled the tower, but for the moment, Shade believed that he had at least isolated the area from the necromancers’ hearing.

  Shade gestured at Edrin. Despite some initial hesitation, the Dragon King’s spell finally dissipated.

  Edrin grunted. The dwarf glared at Shade.

  “Can you do anything with the device?”

  The dwarf nodded. “They’ve got a hold, but we know its innards! I’ll need my brother, though.”

  Shade released Magron. With an identical glare at the sorcerer, the other dwarf joined his brother.

  “You know what I want,” Shade said to them.

  They did not look pleased but went to work.

  Shade knelt by the Dragon King—by his brother. He put his palm on the general spot where once the necromancers’ talisman had been set and concentrated.

  Under his palm, the area glittered again. Unfortunately, at the same time, Shade saw his hand fade slightly. Trying to ignore it, he continued to feed energy into the ragged form.

  The drake lord’s body filled out slightly and his breathing grew less hesitant. The change was temporary, but Shade prayed that it would last long enough. He needed this one ally, however untrustworthy.

  The Dragon King inhaled sharply, then stirred.

  “Why sssave me?”

  “Because what happens if we do not stay allied will be worse than anything you desire.”

  The Crystal Dragon cocked his head but said nothing. He waved away Shade’s offered hand and rose. The drake stood unsteadily, but he stood.

  “What do you plan?”

  “First, we must bring Darkhorse to us.”

  Despite clearly being very weak, the Crystal Dragon nodded. He leaned toward Shade and the pair melded their senses together. Shade could not prevent shivering briefly upon feeling the other presence. Deep within, it was still Vraad, still so much a reminder of the Clan Tezerenee, a memory Shade preferred forgotten.

  “Away from him, Shade!” the eternal’s voice abruptly thundered. “I would teach this fiend what it means to twice entrap me!”

  “No!” Shade kept himself between the two. Near the mechanism, both dwarves stared with saucer eyes at Darkhorse. Few creatures there were in the Dragonrealm who had not at least heard of the Child of the Void. As powerful as their masters were, Edrin and Magron had to be aware of what Darkhorse was capable of.

  The ebony stallion had reared the moment that he had materialized and remained so even after the warlock’s decision to stand against him. The ice-blue orbs fixed on the Dragon King, but Darkhorse’s words were for Shade. “Your decisions are questionable.”

  “Questionable but necessary.”

  “He is Vraad! Beneath that scaled hide is Vraad!”

  “Still asss volatile asss ever, isssn’t he, brother?” the drake lord commented unnecessarily.

  “Tezerenee as well?” roared the eternal. Though not a true equine, Darkhorse still had no trouble keeping on his hind legs. “‘Brother’?”

  His frustration mounting, Shade was tempted to let the pair take on one another, but that would only serve the Lords. To Darkhorse, he proclaimed, “Forget all else! The lives of many are at stake, including Valea’s!”

  That brought the stallion around. With an echoing crash, Darkhorse dropped down onto all fours. “Very well. What is it you need?”

  “What he wanted,” Shade replied, indicating the drake lord. “Your essence fused with the power of this device.”

  The two dwarves had just restarted their work, but now they halted again in shock. Darkhorse was not much less surprised. The eternal studied the mechanism, then, in a tone surprisingly measured for him, asked, “Is this necessary?”

  Shade nodded.

  “Very well.” The sudden shift came as no surprise to Shade. Darkhorse was a being of absolutes. If he trusted another’s choice, that ended all hesitation on his part.

  The sorcerer was glad for that more than ever, for he felt Kadaria’s probing. The necromancers’ spell had come to some new juncture and now she needed something of Shade. Only the fact that she was part of their overall spell had prevented her from already piercing his shield.

  “Can you cover it completely?” Shade asked the eternal.

  “It will be difficult, but it will be done.”

  The Crystal Dragon let out a hiss. “You have sssomething different in mind.”

  Now Shade was glad that his face was out of focus. “No. Just what’s necessary.”

  The drake did not
look convinced but did not protest. Shade hoped that what remained within of the Logan he knew would continue to be as obedient in the face of action as when they had both served their father.

  Edrin turned to the trio. “Now just a minute! If that thing comes in contact—”

  The Dragon King raised a menacing hand, silencing the dwarf.

  Even as Edrin protested, Darkhorse flowed toward the device. As he neared, he started to lose definition. More and more, the eternal became as he had originally been when first discovered long ago in that endless, empty place called the Void. Even the eyes disappeared, leaving only a massive, shapeless blob that swelled as it closed on its objective.

  At that moment, the tower shook. Shade knew it had nothing to do with the founders.

  Kadaria had discovered what he was doing.

  “Naughty, naughty!” called the female necromancer, her partial image re-forming. The half-visible face broke into a mocking smile. “Ah, both my dear cousins side by side! Brothers together, though both of you have changed a little, haven’t you?”

  “Not nearly so much as you,” Shade retorted. “At least we still live, so to speak.”

  Beside him, the Crystal Dragon managed a chuckle.

  “But soon, we will be whole again! Soon, I will be full flesh and blood . . . with all that promises the one I choose . . .”

  She concentrated too much on Shade when she said the last. Kadaria as a Vraad was no more tempting to him than as one of the ghastly Lords, for whatever her outward appearance, her soul was a dark one. Still, Shade hoped to buy time. Darkhorse was nearly upon the mechanism.

  “Oh.” With a casual glance, Kadaria placed a wall of grey energy between the eternal and the device. The dwarves, situated next to the arcane device, battered futilely at the barrier. “There. Now that we’ve settled that, all can proceed as I planned.”

  Shade noted the last with interest. “As you planned? Not as the Lords planned?”

  “I am the nexus of the Lords. What I plan is our plan.”

  But there was something more, the sorcerer realized. So near to victory, Kadaria had let slip that she had ambitions beyond those of her comrades.

  Powerful the necromancers might be, but Shade understood them well. They were still Vraad, just as he had once been. Moreover, he had been the son of Barakas Tezerenee, the cunning and ambitious ruler of his clan.

  Now, for once, Shade needed to be his father’s son. He briefly reached out and ever-so-carefully touched the drake lord’s mind, at the same time asking Kadaria, “And do all your plans include your partners? Or do you have a different fate intended for them as well?”

  “The tower is ours. That’s all that matters at the moment.”

  “And what of us?”

  For a moment, Kadaria stood fully revealed. There was no denying that she was beautiful even for a race that could adjust its appearance at the slightest whim. She pursed her full lips. “For you . . . everything awaits. For them . . .”

  With a roar, the Crystal Dragon lunged toward her. As he did, he began to transform. His arms stretched forward, the hands twisting into claws. The legs bent backward and the feet also grew longer. A tail sprouted and from near the shoulders emerged vestigial wings that swiftly spread wider and wider.

  The most unsettling change was that of the drake lord’s visage. The savage dragon’s-head crest slid down over the helmed area, melding into it. The snout stretched longer, wider, becoming the Crystal Dragon’s true face.

  And as all those changes occurred, the drake lord grew several times greater in size. Barely the blink of an eye had passed, but the Crystal Dragon was already large enough to tower over the others.

  Kadaria involuntarily recoiled even though the teeth and claws could not rend her projection.

  Shade threw his power into dissipating the barrier. Spells such as the barrier required a continued level of concentration. Kadaria had had to make certain that Darkhorse would not pierce it before the Lords fully secured the situation, something that Shade had counted on.

  What he had also counted on was that vestige of Logan that would act as a trained, loyal son of Barakas. All Shade had said in that short link with the Crystal Dragon had been two words.

  Distract her.

  He had left the means of that to his companion . . . and the Dragon King had done far more than Shade had expected.

  The barrier faded.

  Darkhorse draped over the founders’ device. The glowing script burned through him, became part of him.

  The device took on the eternal’s essence.

  The Crystal Dragon let out an agonized cry. The half-grown dragon tumbled to the side as his body again withered. A furious Kadaria continued to glower at the drake lord.

  Shade started toward the device but then turned back to the Crystal Dragon. Gritting his teeth and feeling as if his body were tearing apart, he nevertheless decided to help his companion. It was what Valea would have done, Shade knew. It was something he even recently might not have.

  It was something—a weakness, any of his brothers would probably have said—that would probably mean the ruination of his plan.

  I fail to live up to you again, Father . . . Somewhere he felt the foul spirit of his father laugh at his weakness, his humanity.

  But still he went to the aid of the Crystal Dragon . . . and knew that he would pay for his folly with more than merely his life.

  Shade only prayed that somehow Valea would survive.

  CABE BEDLAM’S DAUGHTER managed to stifle any audible hint of her shock. She knew she was doomed but still attempted a spell.

  Yet, at the very last second, before the spell could come to fruition, she suddenly dismissed it. The dragon, Valea saw, was not lunging. It was frozen in place, its mind ensorcelled, no doubt, by the Lords of the Dead.

  But why is it here? Valea could see no reason for the necromancers to keep what the enchantress now saw was nothing more than a particularly savage-looking riding drake.

  A riding drake with black scale.

  Valea looked up and through the haze saw the rider. The fearsome mount paled in comparison to the menacing drake warrior before her. His helm was topped by one of the most elaborate dragon’s-head crests that the enchantress had ever seen. For a moment, Valea thought it the Black Dragon himself, but then she saw the markings, unique even among all the higher-caste drakes throughout the Dragonrealm.

  “Duke Ravos,” she blurted. Valea fully expected the rider to attack, but, as with the mount, Ravos appeared to be frozen.

  But there was more. With all the magic at play, the enchantress had not at first sensed the power channeling through the duke. It flowed from somewhere beyond this world into the drake warrior and then out again . . . to the Lords of the Dead.

  First the ghosts and now this. Small wonder, she saw, that the necromancers had strength enough to take the tower. As much as Valea feared the land, she feared what the Lords would make of the world. They dealt only in death and worse. All that mattered was their dark desire.

  She stared at Ravos. He was a conduit. If she could shatter the link, then it might disrupt the necromancers’ work. The Lords appeared entirely engrossed in some aspect of their work, so much so that if she acted fast, there was hope of success.

  Valea had never taken a life, but if that was what it took now, she was prepared. She felt some guilt because Ravos appeared to be a victim here, but he also had much blood on his hands.

  Steeling herself, Valea pointed at the drake.

  Ravos’s crimson gaze suddenly flickered, then focused on her. The spell that Valea had cast faded just before it struck him.

  And in meeting that gaze, Cabe’s daughter recognized that the one staring at her was not the duke, but something far more sinister.

  Fire nearly engulfed her, only the enchantress’s quick reflexes enabling her to shield herself from the attack. The malevolent presence of the lord of Lochivar radiated from Ravos as the duke dismounted.

  “I will hav
e my body, my power, ressstored!” Ravos hissed. “I will not allow any Bedlam to interfere with that!”

  Valea was not surprised that the Lords had offered such things to the Dragon King. She knew of his obsession but had not expected that he would fall prey to the promise of their false gifts.

  “My control is already growing even without their final spell!” The Black Dragon flexed his fingers. “I will tear your flesh from your bones for the simple enjoyment of seeing how this body will soon utterly obey me! I will—”

  Without warning, the drake howled and toppled forward. He managed to keep on one knee but swayed back and forth in agony.

  And no wonder, Valea saw. Ravos’s own blade had cut a swathe across his back, a blade wielded by none other than a grim Melicard. Still not entirely in command of his son’s body, the Dragon King had not noticed Melicard slip the weapon out of its sheath.

  “He’s how—he’s how they can call the ghosts into here,” muttered the stricken king. “He gives them . . . that much power. He gives them . . . her and the rest.”

  Valea expected to see Erini appear, but the late queen did not. Still, she had made her presence felt.

  Melicard hefted the huge blade, somehow finding strength despite his own wounds. He brought it down on the drake—

  Without looking up, the scaled figure cast. Melicard went flying back, the sword dropping near the drake.

  Valea made the ground liquefy under the Black Dragon. The armored warrior sank down nearly to his waist. Yet, with one hand, he managed to grab the sword while with the other he caused a quake near the enchantress that sent her falling onto her back.

  “Vermin!” said the Dragon King mockingly through Ravos. “You are nothing to my power even now!”

  A gurgling sound ended his tirade. Valea pushed herself up to see what had happened. She assumed that Melicard had somehow succeeded in reaching his foe again, but the truth was much more astounding.

  “You have . . . nothing . . . now . . . Father!” rasped the drake. “We die together . . .”

  The drake warrior used the sword to cut his own throat.