Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  “And here she is now,” burst Edrik, barely able to restrain himself from rising to greet the newcomer. Cabe noted a rueful smile momentarily grace Majjin’s bearded face. Both the general and the master wizard recognized the king’s infatuation with the newcomer.

  She wore robes akin to Den’s but while slim filled them much more attractively than he did. Her hair was long, straight, and brown—quite unremarkable—but it framed an ivory face such as cameo makers adored. She had deep brown, steady eyes that looked older than her by far. Cabe guessed the woman to be only a year or two older than Edrik.

  “We were just speaking of you,” the king went on, trying to recover his decorum. “Den rightly reminded us that you are just as responsible for the magic detection spell I wanted cast around the kingdom as he is. You came up with the variation that allowed us to extend it even further.”

  The woman blushed hard at his praise, making Cabe think that she shared his infatuation. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted Majjin having to restrain his expression. The general did not like his lord to be entertaining any thoughts of romance with a spellcaster.

  “You honor my efforts too much . . . ”

  “Hardly,” remarked Den. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  Edrik clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled. Master Bedlam, you have the full compliance of two of my best—”

  She gasped, looking full at Cabe, then Darkhorse, finally registering why a traveler’s mount would be allowed before the king. “Bedlam! You’re Cabe Bedlam!”

  “Now whose reputation precedes him?” jested the eternal.

  “They are yours to use, Master Bedlam. Den, you already know, but allow me to introduce to you—”

  The young woman stepped up to Cabe, staring deep into his eyes. Once again he had the sense of more years than her young form indicated. “Hala, Master Bedlam . . . you may call me Hala.”

  IV

  Bedlam . . .

  How long since he had heard that name? Two centuries at least.

  Tragaro clenched the armrests.

  “Bedlam . . . ” he whispered. “Nathan . . . ”

  Below him, where in the distance the huge corpse of the dragon slowly rotted, more than a dozen young figures in hooded robes stood positioned. The pattern they created multiplied their meager power, channeled it however Tragaro desired. When he had wanted the dragon dead, the others had channeled their magic through Genin and Hala, his prize pupils. Now, they did so for their master, enabling Tragaro to watch through the eyes of Hala, study both the one who bore Nathan’s name and the dark beast that ever followed a Bedlam.

  Tragaro matched the bronze smile of his mask. The Twins would be coming into perfect alignment very soon. How appropriate that a Bedlam should make himself available.

  “Yalak, Tyr, Basil . . . you and the rest shall be avenged. The blood of the drakes will be spilled! The Dragon Masters will be reborn!”

  He reached out at the image in his mind, the Bedlam, and tried to wrap his gnarled fingers around the throat. Although Tragaro failed, of course, he still derived some pleasure from the thought.

  Making Hala’s eyes shift, Tragaro peered at Darkhorse, ever a Bedlam’s hound. The black beast would have to be removed first. The masked wizard laughed. “Easily done . . . easily done . . . ”

  Cabe felt some guilt at not having mentioned one fact to the king—the fact that he had a particular reason for wanting to reshape Den’s spell. The memory of the terrible mental blow he had suffered in the inn remained with him. Someone had twisted the lines of force so essential to magic with such disregard that it had nearly killed Cabe simply by his noting it.

  There were many advantages to being so sensitive to magic, but not if it meant suffering again such an attack. Cabe had no desire to repeat the incident. He hoped Den’s spell, properly altered, would make that possible.

  It turned out that the tip of the towering palace belonged not to Edrik, as Cabe had always assumed, but to the Gordagian wizards. Being wizards, they had decided to make the trek much easier for themselves and had installed a permanent travel spell—called by some as a blink hole. One end of the hole remained fixed at the ground floor of the palace, the other opened into the mages’ wing high above. One merely walked in one end and appeared out the other.

  It did not surprise Cabe that the Gordagians knew such advanced spell work. At the behest of Edrik’s father, some of the older ones had studied for a time at the school in Penacles that the Gryphon had set up. Both the lord of Penacles and the Bedlams had done what they could to see to it that a new generation of properly-trained spellcasters would become a reality.

  After several introductions to awestruck young mages, Cabe left a cheerful Darkhorse with the rest while he joined Den and Hala in private in the tip of the high tower, where the spell they had created constantly scanned the kingdom.

  Cabe studied the arrangement. In the center of the ten-by-ten room stood a pedestal on which four delicate crystals—red, blue, yellow, and white—had been set. Each represented a direction on the compass. Dangling over the center was a nut-sized lodestone. With his heightened senses, Cabe noted the intertwining and binding of the magical forces from one stone to the next, then how they were tied into the natural lines of power crisscrossing everything.

  “This is indeed astounding. Excellent work.”

  Den adjusted his lenses modestly while Hala simply blushed.

  “Show me this here,” he went on, pointing to questionable details within the matrix the pair had created. Cabe already had a good notion as to how he could do what he planned, but he wanted to be certain.

  The two explained their creation, verifying his beliefs. It would be a simple task to amplify and adjust their detection spell.

  The task took less than an hour, thanks to his companions’ aid. Hala was especially helpful, seeming to read his mind much of the time.

  Cabe pushed back the sleeves of his robe as he studied their work. Now the spell’s range extended far in every direction, even allowing for the detection of magic residue, the sorcerous imprint left by a spell already cast.

  “Generally one of us is always here,” remarked Den. “But I was called down so quickly I forgot to ask someone to replace me.”

  “So where do you usually sit? With your eyes on the lodestone?”

  “Yes, Master Bedlam.”

  They stepped back respectfully as he sat and stared. For a minute, Cabe merely eyed the lodestone . . . then his surroundings faded. Suddenly, the wizard could see in all directions, see all parts of the lands encompassing Gordag-Ai and beyond. He could see every line, from the strongest to the most minute.

  Over and over Cabe scanned the realm and beyond, finding nothing of note. He sensed the other wizards in the tower, sensed the innate magic that was Darkhorse, even sensed his own inherent power—but no trace of that which had struck him down.

  And then . . .

  To the north—No!—the southwest—No!—the north again!

  Two sources?

  Frowning, Cabe concentrated. The north became the apparent direction, but then so did the southwest again. Try as he might, it proved impossible to pinpoint anything more about either location. They were incredibly well-shielded. Only his manipulation of the Gordagian spell had made any notice of them possible.

  Two sources. Two points of investigation.

  Two possible threats?

  He pulled himself free. “I’ve located something. I don’t know what, but there are two places.” Cabe pinpointed the directions. “Each seems as likely as the other.”

  “Which one do we investigate first?” asked Den.

  “We investigate nothing. You’ve done your part. Darkhorse and I will take care of the rest.”

  “But if you both go after one, the other might vanish,” Hala pointed out. “And if you separate, there will only be one of you near each.”

  Cabe had considered that himself, but had come up with no good answer. He did no
t want to risk the young wizards nor any of Majjin’s soldiers. They would be more a danger to themselves than assistance to him. Yet, he did not like the idea of splitting away from Darkhorse.

  “Master Bedlam,” she continued hesitantly. “I know that you want to do this as quietly as possible and that you don’t want to risk others . . . but perhaps there is a way to do this. It—it’s not exactly what you hoped for, but it might work.”

  “Speak.”

  She looked at him with those eyes. “I know you don’t want us going with you to either place, but—but what if we came along part of the way, guided you to a point, then waited for you. That way, if something seemed amiss, we could more quickly contact help. Den could go with Darkhorse and wait at Primar’s Point. I could travel with you as far as the Myridian Pass. We could stay linked better that way.

  He frowned. Some part of him intended to reject the overly-simple plan, but another part grasped at it. At the very least, it would give him something to counter Edrik’s and Majjin’s objections when they found out he had gone ahead without their consultation.

  “Very well. We’ll do it.”

  Hala’s beaming smile made him smile back despite his misgivings.

  Darkhorse, too, had not been overly impressed with the youthful human’s suggestion, but he bowed to Cabe’s wisdom. If his friend thought the notion satisfactory, than so be it. Still, leaving Cabe did not suit the eternal and he insisted that Hala alert the other wizards of Gordag-Ai at the slightest hint of trouble. They, in turn, would contact him.

  Now he raced north, toward Primar’s Point. High hills dotted the landscape and huge rock formations loomed in the distance. The discerning eyes of the stallion noted ancient dwarven markings, signifying an old trade route now long grown over.

  “We should be there soon, should we not?” he rumbled to Den.

  The human clung tight to his mane, his faced planted in Darkhorse’s neck. The suggestion that he ride the eternal had at first excited the novice wizard, but the actual experience was proving too much as Darkhorse nearly soared over the earth.

  “S-soon! Yes!” gasped Den, clutching his lenses so as not to lose them. “Not much farther!”

  Despite the waning day, both Cabe and Darkhorse had agreed that urgency insisted they investigate the two locations immediately. Both man and eternal had the ability to traverse the great distance quickly when necessary. Cabe had created a Blink Hole with the assistance of Hala while the shadow steed had simply started running . . . the swiftest method of all.

  A sharp-edged geological formation materialized far ahead. Primar’s Point. The knife-blade shape was unmistakable. Several red curving strata in the formation gave it a bloody look.

  The woods thickened. Burdened with a rider, Darkhorse was forced to pick his way along. The descending sun left in its wake deep shadows everywhere.

  “You know where best to await me?”

  His voice muffled by the stallion’s mane, Den replied, “Around the eastern side of the Point! There’s a clear rise where—where I can sit and c-concentrate!”

  “Excellent! We shall make for that and—”

  He got no further, for suddenly the path turned . . . literally before his eyes.

  “What’s this?”

  Den dared look up. “W-what’s wrong?”

  “I am not certain! Hold tight!”

  Darkhorse attempted to pull away from the path, but an incredible force tugged him back along it. His body suddenly rippled and from the gasp that escaped the human, something of a similarly unsettling nature had happened to him.

  “D-Darkhorse! I can’t—”

  “You will hold tight!” To guarantee that, the eternal shifted his form, allowing Den’s legs to sink into the stallion’s sides. Black flaps then wrapped over the legs, effectively sealing Den to his mount.

  “I am going to try to pull free again! Be ready!”

  Without waiting for Den to reply, the shadow steed threw his power against that which held them—and this time he felt the spell give.

  Stallion and rider turned off the path, heading up a gray hill.

  “What happened back there? What was that spell?”

  “I am not sure! I think—” but Darkhorse got no further, for suddenly he saw that he now ran downhill.

  His attacker had planned for his escape.

  Curiously, there was something remotely familiar about the spell work. Darkhorse had come across its like before, but not as the victim. Who had it been . . . ?

  He had no more time to think about it, for now he once again ran the path. If the insidious incantation acted as Darkhorse suspected, he would be running along the same short distance until the caster decided to halt the attack.

  That, of course, assumed that it was supposed to end. The intention might be for Darkhorse to continue running forever and ever . . .

  Atop him, Den suddenly realized in what they were trapped. “A time loop! I’ve read of them, but the knowledge and skill needed . . . ”

  He did not go on nor did Darkhorse need him to do so. Such a spell required much ability. Their adversary had to be as nearly skilled as Cabe, but very few mages still lived who could claim such a degree of talent.

  Still lived?

  Memories dredged up. Incomplete ones, but enough to remind Darkhorse that the last caster of such a spell was now long, long dead. He had been an ally, not a foe . . .

  But who?

  “D-Darkhorse? I think—I think I’ve got an idea!!”

  At this point, the eternal was willing to listen to anything. “Tell me! Quickly!”

  “It—it’s a time forward loop! A normal wizard couldn’t break it in either direction, but you might if you reverse, with every iota of your power pushing that way—”

  “I will have no greater effect! The spell will just adjust with me!”

  Den fiddled with his lenses. “But if I use my magic to stretch it forward at the same time, it might be too much strain!”

  Darkhorse had already thought about the fact that few spellcasters could match Cabe’s abilities, much less his own. It was highly likely that whoever had set the trap would be near the limits of their power. This was a trap requiring constant reinforcing until the victim gave in, at which point it could be bound to the one trapped, sealing him from reality for as long as desired. The strain had to be incredible.

  “Very well! We can but try!”

  He sensed Den focusing. Despite the loop, there were still lines of force everywhere, one thing the unknown casters could not prevent. It was the key fault in the spell.

  “Now!” the wizard shouted. “Now, Darkhorse!”

  The eternal’s legs twisted, now facing backwards. Without a pause, Darkhorse raced that direction, sensing his route through magic.

  He felt Den pushing with his own power toward the other end of the loop. As far as the spell was concerned, it was as if they tried to run in two directions at once.

  Their surroundings rippled . . . then a brief sensation of displacement nearly caused Darkhorse to stumble. He compensated, tasting freedom—

  Something plucked Den from his back despite the shadow steed’s precautions. The wizard screamed.

  Darkhorse’s tail became his head as he reversed himself entirely. He quickly searched around for the human.

  A tree shaped like a monstrous hand had the wizard in its grasp.

  Snorting at the petty attempt, the ebony stallion charged toward his trapped companion.

  But instead of being grateful, Den, his lenses gone, shook his head and shouted, “No, Darkhorse! No!”

  Too late did the eternal see the slight rippling on the trail ahead.

  He raced into the second time loop—

  V

  “I dislike leaving you here alone in the pass, Hala.”

  “I grew up here, Master Bedlam,” she replied, turning her much older eyes to his. “I’ll be safe.”

  That they discomforted him had nothing to do with attraction. Hala was pretty
enough, but Cabe very much loved his wife, the sorceress Gwen. Rather, when he looked deep into them, he felt as if Hala had lived much harder than her few years warranted.

  Although thanks to the slow aging of wizards he barely looked older than her, he pointed a fatherly finger and insisted, “What goes for me goes for you. At the slightest hint of trouble, give me warning. That goes for alerting your comrades in Gordag-Ai, too.”

  “I’ll do what’s right,” she murmured, lowering her gaze.

  The blink hole had opened almost exactly on target, in great part due to Hala’s added concentration. Linked to both him and the spell, she had helped guide them here.

  The Myridian Pass was a beautiful gap between two mountains where the colored strata of thousands of years of cutting by the nearby river stood revealed for the few admiring travelers to wander through. The rock alone made for a wonderful spectacle, but the onrushing water, with its swift rapids and lush green banks, added even more dimension. In addition to the plant life, great herons nested across from where the wizards stood, barking to one another or flying over the river in search of food. Their presence seemed to belie the notion that something sinister might be going on not that far away.

  Gazing at the descending sun, Cabe estimated no more than half an hour before the high walls of the pass caused everything to be plunged into darkness. The Twins would then be ascendant, with Styx, the pale one, slightly more dominant. Tomorrow, the two moons would be in perfect alignment with one another, a time of high sorcery.

  Cabe shuddered. It had been at such a time that as a youth he had nearly been sacrificed by the Dragon King Brown. Brown had hoped to rejuvenate his realm. Two hundred years before, during the Turning War, the Dragon Masters, with Nathan Bedlam at the lead, had literally twisted the landscape upon itself. They had crushed the power of Brown, nearly decimated his clans, and left in their wake the most desolate of places—the Barren Lands.

  It had been Brown who had perished that night, inadvertently felled by Cabe’s burgeoning magic. Now, for the first time since then, the Twins were preparing to align . . . and Cabe could see no good coming from it.