Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  Until he had been spotted by servants of the Purple Dragon. His strength depleted, the northerner had been easily captured. Asaalk was taken before the drake lord himself and only quick thinking had saved his life. He had immediately discerned that here was a beast who admired knowledge and gathered it to him as if it were gold.

  "And what did you have to offer him?" the Green Dragon interrupted.

  "I told him of my homeland and of the place I came from. I . . . embellished a bit for him, yes, in order to keep his interest." The blue man glanced at Bedlam. "You, I think, would have done the same."

  Wellen nodded.

  Asaalk skimmed through his captivity, something the scholar could not blame him for doing. It could not have been a pleasant time. Escape had come by accident. He had been fitted with a magical collar to keep him under control, but after a couple of days, he had discovered that the control was weakening. His probing fingers came across a crack that had formed when they had sealed the device around his neck.

  "By the end of the third day, it threatened me no more. I wasted no time, yes. When my chance came, I walked out of their lives like a cat." The rest of his tale the blue man summed up in a few sentences. He had headed west, knowing from information he had gathered that here he might find sanctuary. "And what do I find, but a face so familiar to me! This is fate, yes?"

  The northerner's exaggerated speech pattern made Wellen wince. He was certain by now that Asaalk's shifting from one manner of speech to another was calculated. Now and then, the blue man might slip, but for the most part, he seemed to purposely change. Why he continued to do that was something the scholar doubted he wanted to know about. Perhaps now that he was safe again, the blue man's ambitions were returning. Did Asaalk think he could toy with the Dragon King?

  It hardly mattered for now, Bedlam reminded himself. What Prentiss Asaalk chose to do was up to him. Wellen had his own path to follow.

  The northerner apparently did not think so. He strode up to the shorter man, clasped him on the shoulders, and bellowed, "It is good to see you again, yes! I thought you dead! Now, the two of us can leave this place together and return home!"

  "Home?" Once, he had planned to try and start a colony here, one that would not have to deal with the machinations occurring across the sea. That idea had died a lamented death with the unfortunates in the column. "How can we return? The Heron's Wing is. . ."

  "Is still anchored off the shore where we left it. It has not been so long since we departed, has it?"

  It had not been, but Wellen had assumed that the rest of the expedition had either departed in haste or been taken by the minions of Purple. "It's still there?"

  "Before my escape,"—here Asaalk gave him a theatrical impression of craftiness—"I gained access to a device that could study most every region of the cursed purple one's kingdom, including the shore."

  "Ssssuch a device is known to me," Green interrupted. "All of us control such artifacts. There are other methods available assss well."

  Home! It almost seemed too good to be true! "Could we see the ship from here?"

  "That issss doubtful. While we may call one another brethren, each of ussss . . . each of us guards our domain very carefully. Not that we do not have our spies, of course. Finding out about this vessel is another concern, however. Purple is particularly jealous at the moment, what with his prize stolen, and so he has stepped up his defenses. Perhaps after a time I will be able to overcome his spells. It would take many days of work."

  "We can't afford to wait," Wellen reminded him. "Shade can't afford to wait. As soon as Xabene completes her work, we have to move." Even now, it was probably too late. Yet, he still could not believe that Shade was dead.

  Asaalk listened with great attentiveness. "Please. What is it you speak of? Who is this Xabene?"

  "I'm Xabene." The enchantress was standing by the entrance to the Green Dragon's imperial chamber. How long she had stood there, Wellen did not know. Somehow, she had found yet another form-enhancing outfit, again black, but this time it was a little more practical. Still a gown, yet it was sturdier, more able to combat the elements and plant life.

  She was no less desirable and she likely knew it.

  The lengthy northerner eyed her with open appreciation. He shook his head and said to Wellen, "Here I struggle and you have found this one! All adventures should be so treacherous!"

  "Oh, it was . . . for both of us." The enchantress gave him a winning smile, which made Bedlam scowl. She then smiled at Wellen and joined him, giving clear indication to Prentiss Asaalk where her interests lay.

  "Human relations are always sssso amusing," the reptilian monarch baldly stated, "but there are other, more pressing, concerns. How goes your task, female?"

  The enchantress did not take kindly to the drake lord's general refusal to acknowledge that she had a name. "It goes well, dragon. I have to return in an hour and begin the next stage." She had been up for hours already, but fatigue was not evident. Sorcery gave Xabene life where nothing else could. "After the next stage, we just have to let it sit until it is ready."

  "And when will that be?"

  "Tomorrow sometime." She held her head high. "As I promised. It should function perfectly for our purposes. I could, of course, do more if I had the time."

  "What is it we speak of?" Asaalk wanted to know. Wellen saw no harm in telling him. "A way of tracking down an elusive building."

  "You jest."

  "Did the Dragon King Purple never speak of the gnome?" The northerner nodded. "There was talk of such a creature and his sanctum, yes. For a time, I was questioned, but I knew nothing. What does this have to do with a building that . . . hides?"

  "It vanished. I was standing almost as close to it as I am to you."

  "Aaaah! This explains much, yes! Small wonder they did not expend so much effort on me! I know of the value that the Dragon King put on the place. If it is gone, he would be very furious."

  The Green Dragon chuckled at that. "He issss, indeed, human! He would rather his get all be slaughtered than lose the gnome."

  "It is a book he wants, I think."

  Green's more vicious counterpart had evidently told Asaalk more than Wellen had first imagined. "That's right. A book." "And you also want this book?"

  The scholar was saved from trying to explain by Xabene, who cryptically said, "Among other things, if possible."

  Prentiss Asaalk seemed to measure Wellen. "And you plan to go to this place then? You plan to risk the evil of the land's monarch?"

  "I do."

  "I have not found you only to lose you again!" The blue man put a companionable hand on the explorer's shoulder. Wellen tried not to wince at the strength Asaalk used when he squeezed. "Then I must go with you!"

  "That won't be necessary," Xabene blurted.

  "But it will! I must see to it that Master Bedlam here survives to return home and claim his glory!"

  The enchantress grew rigid and glanced at Wellen. She did not appear to like it when the blue man spoke of him departing. The thought had been discussed on and off, but no one had truly believed he would be leaving. Until Asaadk's return, it had been assumed that there was no longer a vessel waiting for him. Without a good ship, the explorer was trapped here. Now, however, it appeared he had a defmite means of escape. Whether he made use of it was up to Wellen.

  Prentiss Asaalk was not going to back down. Bedlam knew the man well enough to realize that. It might be that the northerner would come in handy. They could hardly go marching in with Benton Lore and his soldiers and expect the gnome to listen. More important, they could hardly expect the dragon Purple to ignore a small army. A diversion had been planned by the lord of the Dagora Forest, but this would only work if it was more noticeable than the truth. Three or four people riding swiftly and shielded by some spell of the Green Dragon would have a better chance of avoiding detection. If one of those people, Prentiss Asaalk, knew something about the workings of Purple's kingdom, it might increase their chan
ces. While the Green Dragon was the best source of information, they could hardly bring him along.

  "All right," Wellen told him, trying not to sigh in resignation. He turned to Xabene, but she was finding ways to avoid his eyes. The time was coming for the two of them to ask and answer some questions for one another.

  It may be that the Dragon King saw some of this, though it was more likely he had his own questions and answers to discuss. "Human," he said to Asaalk. "These guards will take you to a place where you may feed and rest. I have things that I must discuss with Master Bedlam. You will be summoned when your presence is required."

  The northerner bowed and obediently followed his guards out. Wellen knew that Asaalk did not like being dismissed like that, but protesting to a dragon was utter foolishness.

  When it was certain that the northerner was far enough away that he could not possibly hear them converse, the Dragon King asked, "You trust this peculiar-skinned human, Master Bedlam?"

  "I do." He was basing his assumption on pure conjecture; with his head throbbing as it was, Asaalk could have been ready to murder him and he would not have known. Still, the two of them shared a bond. They were outsiders in a mad world.

  Green tilted his head to one side and called out, "You may enter now, Benton Lore."

  The black man stepped in from one of the outer corridors. "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "You are certain, Wellen Bedlam, that you might trust this man?"

  "I am . . . I think so, anyway." What were they driving at? What was wrong with Prentiss Asaalk? From Xabene's perplexed expression, he gathered she did not understand, either. Disliking the man in general was one thing, but sinister mysteries was another.

  "Lore, tell him what you ssssensed."

  The pepper-haired warlock looked at the curious duo and calmly reported, "Nothing."

  Wellen shrugged. "So what then is the problem? If you sensed nothing amiss, then why should—"

  "That was not what I said," Lore interrputed. "I said I sensed nothing. Your companion is magically blank to me." "Assss he isss to me," added the leviathan.

  "I do not understand."

  The reptilian monarch smiled grimly, his toothy smile, as ever, making Wellen uneasy. "What Lore seeks to say, is that as far as the blue-skinned one is concerned, we do not feel his presence on a magical level."

  "He does not exist," completed Lore. "Bodily, yes, but the man you call Prentiss Asaallc is not altogether human."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wellen spent several hours with Prentiss Asaalk, but unlike the Green Dragon and Benton Lore, not once did he sense anything amiss. Asaalk seemed a bit more flamboyant than he recalled, but not enough that the scholar could interpret the difference as anything significant. Still, Wellen was willing to think about what his host had said. The Dragon King was of the opinion that Asaalk might be a spy of sorts for the Purple Dragon. It might not be the blue man at all, but rather something or someone made to resemble him. Bedlam was therefore careful about what he discussed with the possible double and regretted that the subjects of Xabene's work and the gnome had come up.

  In order to keep everything seemingly normal, Asaalk had been given one of the chambers near those of Wellen and the enchantress. The guards, however, were tripled in strength. No one informed Assalk that there had ever been a change in numbers.

  Day had passed into the night, although that was not a simple thing to realize in the perpetually lit caverns. Wellen first knew it from the exhaustion that threatened to overtake him. A short conversation with Lore had verified the lateness of the hour. Asaalk had already retired and his chamber was carefully watched. No one wanted a repeat of the attack by the Lords of the Dead. The Green Dragon was very certain that this was a ploy set up by his counterpart to the southeast and not the necromancers. The style was identifiable, the leviathan had informed him, even if the plot was not one of Purple's most cunning. Its flaws had been spotted almost instantly by the master of the Dagora Forest.

  The Green Dragon intended to turn that ploy against its originator.

  "He thinks we do not suspect that this creature is possibly not the real human. The frustration of losing the gnome has made him act in too much hasssste!" The reptilian monarch had greatly enjoyed his counterpart's gross error.

  Wellen was not so confident. He could not help wondering if there was more to the situation than they knew. Had the other Dragon King grown that careless?

  The scholar paused when he reached Xabene's chamber. A thick curtain covered the entranceway, but he could tell it was dark within. Wellen had wanted to talk to her, but waking the enchantress would not start the conversation off in the correct mood. This had to be done just right.

  He continued on to his own chamber, nodded to a couple human guards . . . did the rest of Green's clan have nothing to do with humans? . . . and brushed aside the curtain as he entered.

  Xabene lay casually across his bed, waiting for him. She smiled slyly at his dumbfounded expression. "I had to talk to you, Wellen Bedlam."

  Her formal use of his name did not bode well. He strode to the bed and stood before her, arms crossed. With languid movements, the well-formed sorceress rose and faced him.

  "Still untrusting?"

  "I trust you." He stepped back when she came too near. Xabene laughed lightly at his reaction.

  "I can see that you do. Don't worry, I won't come any closer than this . . . unless you decide to let me."

  "What do you want?"

  She folded her own arms and turned away. Wellen could not help but follow every detail of her movement. The ebony-haired enchantress had resumed her role of seductress. Bedlam was not certain whether he welcomed the return or not.

  "I've wanted many things in my life. Most of them were beyond me before I sold myself to the Lords of the Dead for power. When I was finally able to gather those things, I discovered that they were not what I had expected. There were always other things, though, so I was not unhappy so long as I had those goals, those treasures, to pursue."

  Xabene turned around again. Wellen broke the momentary silence to ask, "What does that have to do with me? Am I supposed to be like those treasures? You no longer have to toy with me for the necromancers; does that mean it's time to turn elsewhere?"

  In response, she took hold of Wellen and kissed him hard. Like a candle's flame abruptly doused, the world around the scholar winked out of existence. His world was now the woman in his arms. Shade, the gnome, the Lords of the Dead, the Dragon Kings . . . they seemed such distant things that he was almost tempted to believe he had dreamed them.

  When they finally separated, Xabene once more had a calculating look in her eye, but this time Bedlam had a better idea of what it concerned. "I still don't believe in love at first sight," she said. "But I do believe that two people can find that they are meant for one another. I was bothered by that thought when I first noticed how I reacted to you. You struck something within me that should have been as dead as . . . " Xabene forced the unspoken thought away. "Let's just say that I knew I was yours even when I fought not to be."

  "I'm not certain I understand some of that."

  "It doesn't matter, but something else does. You know what I was like, Wellen; you know what I've done. Can you accept me as I am now?"

  He blinked. "I thought I had."

  "Kissing me doesn't necessarily answer that. I've done far more with men before and neither side thought of love." "Are you the same Xabene as then?"

  "Only in form."

  "You almost sound like Shade," the scholar commented. "My answer still holds. If what I've seen these past few days is the true you . . . and not some playacting like both you and Asaalk seem to enjoy . . . then I have no intention of giving you up."

  "What about your vessel?"

  Wellen had forgotten about that. "If it exists, which is doubtful, it has room for one more." He grimaced. "It has room for many more now. More likely, the Dragonrealm is now my home."

  She took hold of him
again. "Do you still intend your madness with the gnome?"

  "I do. I owe Shade that much."

  Xabene sighed. "I suppose I do too." The enchantress kissed him briefly, then began to lead him toward the bed. "If we are destined to walk arm-in-arm into the maw of Purple, then, let us do it as one, not two."

  "Xabene . . . "

  A finger to his lips silenced him. "No argument, please." She smiled and though her smile was seductive, it was not calculating, this time. "After all, tomorrow may be too late."

  He could not argue that no matter how much he might have wanted to. Tomorrow was all too likely to end in disaster . . . and one or both of them would probably be dead.

  The blame, much like the choice, would be his.

  All too soon it was the next day. With much enthusiasm, Xabene revealed her handiwork to Wellen and the others. There was no way of avoiding the inclusion of Prentiss Asaalk, or whatever or whoever the blue figure might actually be, from the gathering. If Asaalk was other than he appeared, to exclude him was to warn the one who had sent him that the plot had been uncovered. The Green Dragon did not care for events to occur that way.

  At Lore's order, two servants had brought a large, oak table into the cavern chamber so that the enchantress could better display her handiwork. The results, needless to say, were curious enough to bring even the Dragon King to silence.

  "Thissss issss a tapestry of ssssorts," the leviathan finally stated.

  "It is," she responded. "Given more time, I could have made it much more elaborate, but that would've probably taken years."

  "Time we do not have," Wellen agreed. If this worked, they would likely be leaving soon after. The Dragon King wanted everything perfectly coordinated. It was possible that the citadel would move again, too. The nearer they were when they did their final check of its location, the less chance they had of riding fruitlessly back and forth across the plains.

  "How does it work?" Asaalk asked rather eagerly.

  The tapestry was fairly simple. Three feet in length and two across, it barely fit what Wellen would have thought the size requirements of a tapestry. He recalled the huge, intricate cloths hanging in the great houses and the university corridors. This . . . this seemed more something to wrap a small baby in.