Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  The blade sliced completely through Evan’s neck.

  He gasped, waiting for the blood, waiting for oblivion. Yet, no blood seeped onto his hand, no darkness swallowed him. Slowly the truth dawned on Evan; the sword had not beheaded him. General Haggad’s weapon had been as insubstantial as the specter himself.

  The wraith laughed, a mocking, chilling sound. The body of the general shook so hard the head nearly toppled from the crook of the arm. “He said I’d be able to have some sport with you even though I couldn’t touch you, boy! What a gullible little fool still after all these years!”

  Though breathless, heart pounding, Evan composed himself again, realizing that Haggad’s tactics had been designed to stall him, nothing more. Restoring the grimness to his features, the knight once more prepared himself for the spell. He lifted his sword. He could do this. He knew enough from Centuros to turn the evil on itself.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, boy! He wouldn’t like that!”

  “Who?” Evan mocked, despite his efforts to remain indifferent. “Who? Valentin? Novaris?”

  “Novaris? The Master’s long gone from here, Wytherling, and Valentin, loyal that he is, is a mad dog, to be sure! No, I mean himself, boy! You know best not to disturb the dead . . .”

  Evan reminded himself that he spoke only to a projection, that General Haggad stood there as only the simplest of ghosts. Some could do physical harm, but Haggad could only taunt, pretend. He had no real power over the knight save what Evan gave him . . . and Evan would give no more.

  “Your games are over, General,” Evan said as he focused on his sword. “Go back to being dead.”

  “You first, boy.”

  Just before Evan would have plunged his sword into the ground, the earth beneath his feet suddenly gave way, collapsing inward. Evan stumbled back, arms outstretched as he tried to regain his balance. His blade, which made contact with only air, was unnaturally propelled upward and over, landing far.

  He rolled off the mound, collapsing facedown at its base. Groaning, Evan moved slowly, the air knocked from him.

  Some distance away, his mount gave out a warning cry.

  Darkness enveloped Evan, a darkness deeper than the night and even the storm warranted. With effort, Evan rolled onto his back, seeking his blade.

  Laughter not that of the wraith assailed his ears, sent his head pounding. He knew that laugh, knew it erupted from no human source.

  Something large and powerful struck him.

  THE TURNING WAR: DRAGON MASTERS

  - Legends of the Dragonrealm -

  (Coming in Trade & ebook)

  Nathan finally landed, every bone in his body shaking as he struck. Rock and earth continued to spill down around him, but his spell held strong.

  Head pounding, Nathan managed to focus on his surroundings. As he did, it became readily apparent that what he lay in was no natural passage created by the flow of lava. What little the mage could see of the walls had the look of having been hewn by hand.

  He tried to reach out with his mind to Yalak’s. Not at all to Nathan’s surprise, some invisible force cut off his attempt.

  The rubble around him began to shift despite there being no tremor.

  Leaping to his feet, Nathan illuminated the underground cave. A blinding blue brilliance spread everywhere . . . and in it stood revealed what he counted as at least a dozen ominous shelled shapes.

  And two dozen glittering eyes fixed upon him.

  Despite their girth, the shelled figures moved through the rubble with astounding fluidity. Nathan knew that they were not Quel, that race being confined to the Legar Peninsula a rarely seen. These creatures’ shells were akin to those of turtles and even their heads --- or rather their sharp, sharp beaks --- had some general similarity, but there the resemblance ended. The faces were broader, squatter, and a malevolent intelligence filled the eyes. In their thick fists, they held short daggers with twin blades.

  Jaruu . . . Nathan had never seen the beastmen before, but knew of them from tales of the Red Dragon’s domain. The Jaruu were supposed to serve the Dragon King and so should not have been about to attack him . . . yet, these clearly were.

  “I am here in the name of the emperor!” Nathan shouted. The Jaruu could understand Common speech, even if they did not speak it themselves. It was the language preferred by the Dragon Kings, after all.

  Nevertheless, the Jaruu did not slow and their intent for Nathan was made more apparent by the low hisses more than one emitted.

  The mage wished the creatures asleep, only to have the spell fade without even slowing the Jaruu. Frowning, Nathan took a measure of his foes. He waved his hand across, sending rock flying at his attackers. Three went down under the onslaught, but the rest ducked their heads deep into their shells, each utilizing a ridge atop to further shield themselves from his magical attack. At the same time, they continued to converge on him.

  Nathan did not ask where his comrades were, assuming that they faced troubles of their own. Someone had arranged all this, leaking the information carefully. Nathan had to assume that it had been the Gryphon. No magic had been involved in digging out the ground underneath the illusion. Any use of such would have lingered long enough to warn Nathan and the others when they had arrived.

  As this all ran through his head, Nathan continued to cast. Concerned that the Jaruu attacked under some misbelief that he threatened their master, Nathan was determined not to kill them. He only wished that he could be certain that he could stop the creatures from doing harm to him.

  There was no use in attempting another spell directly focused on the Jaruu. Nathan was certain that it would fail just as the first had. The rocks had only worked because they had been the true target of his spell.

  The blue glow began to fade. Darkness would not bother the Jaruu, who dwelled most of their time below ground to avoid the heat of the surface. Unfortunately, the light did not bother them either, or else they would have shown some hesitation after his illumination spell.

  The foremost Jaruu reached him. It thrust the blade at his throat ---

  The tip broke off, Nathan’s magical shield holding. However, the Jaruu did not seem at all perturbed by the damage to the weapon. It immediately dropped the ruined dagger and sought to crush Nathan’s throat in its huge hands.

  “Awaayyy!” snarled a reptilian voice that echoed throughout the area. “Awaayyy!”

  The thundering cry was followed by an angry roar.

  The Jaruu froze. Nathan saw the conflict in their inhuman orbs. They wanted to continue their attack against the mage, but a primal fear now stirred within them.

  Again came the roar, this time louder and obviously nearer.

  One of the Jaruu broke, turning and rushing into the darkness beyond Nathan that took it farthest from the direction of the roar. That caused a flood of retreat by the other shelled creatures, quickly leaving the wizard alone save for those Jaruu he had managed to knock unconscious with the rocks.

  No . . . Nathan realized very quickly that there was still someone else with him.

  “Very clever . . . you picked the one thing the Jaruu feared. I wonder how long it will take them to comprehend that they ran from a spell of your making and not actually their master?”

  Part of the darkness peeled away, but remained nearly as unfathomable. Nathan took one glance at the long, flowing black cloak and hood and especially at the murky face and immediately cast a new spell.

  The six silver bolts should have pinned their target to the nearest wall, but instead simply melted as they neared the other figure.

  “There is no reason for that,” Shade murmured. “The Jaruu were not my doing. I only made use of the moment to speak with you.”

  “You’re condemned by a dozen decrees from the emperor,” Nathan retorted, a new attack already unleashed. He watched as the air solidified around the warlock ---

  --- and then softened again.

  “I’ve been condemned a thousand times more by count
less others.” Shade shook his head. “Some of them succeeded in having those decrees carried out. You yourself was the tool twice, if you recall.”

  Recalling not only those battles but aware of so many of the other stories told about the hooded figure, neither of Nathan’s attacks had been meant to slay this current incarnation of the warlock; that possibly unattainable goal he would this time leave to Lord Purple and the emperor.

  While his mind raced over what spell would work against a legend, Nathan also strengthened his own defenses. In addition, another concern constantly demanded his attention.

  “Where are my friends?” Nathan demanded, purposely not mentioning that one of them was his son. That might put unexpected focus on Dayn. “Where?”

  “Following a false trail. Have no fear for them. I won’t hold you long.”

  “You won’t hold me at ---”

  A chill coursed through Nathan as yet more of the darkness separated itself from the walls. This time, it took on a shape not at all humanoid, but rather equine. The shadow of an equine.

  “The lord of the Hell Plains is aware of us!” the booming voice declared to Shade. “This is best done and done now, my friend!”

  “It will be, but I need Master Bedlam here to understand.”

  “I understand that you’ll never take me,” Nathan promised, well aware of his chances against not just one being of myth, but two. “Neither you nor this demon . . . ”

  “I am merely Darkhorse, nothing more,” the towering creature retorted, sounding very offended. “not a demon . . . well, not in the absolute true sense of the word . . . I think.”

  While Shade emitted a brief chuckle at the stallion’s almost childlike response, Nathan found nothing to laugh at. Every tale concerning either of the pair raced through his thoughts as he sought some weakness or at least an avenue of escape.

  Another roar echoed across not only the cave, but the region above. There was no doubt of the reality of this one.

  Glancing at Nathan again, Shade sighed. “Too late. This was not how it was supposed to---”

  Tremendous claws ripped open the gap through which Nathan had fallen. Fire immediately swept into the cave, washing over everything and everyone . . . including Nathan.

  Darkhorse dissipated much the way shadows did in the light of day or the brilliance of a fearsome inferno. Shade, on the other hand, threw himself at the other spellcaster, enveloping Nathan in his cloak.

  As that happened, for the first time the elder Bedlam sensed the nearby presence of his son. Nathan tried to contact Dayn, but a different force prevented him this time. He knew that its odd magical signature could only belong to Shade.

  The ground shook . . . then all was quiet.

  The darkness receded. Shade pulled away from Nathan, who instantly leapt to his feet . . . and paused as his new surroundings became evident.

  They were still in the Hell Plains, that much was evident not only from the stifling heat, but also from the jagged craters in the distance. Nathan recognized one particularly ugly and active crater and knew that Shade had teleported them miles away from their previous spot.

  But what caught his attention more and at least for the time being prevented him from renewing the battle with Shade was the ruined structure before the pair. Little remained but the foundation and a few bits of wall, but Nathan could sense strong traces of ancient magic . . . and among them a trace that for some reason that appeared naggingly familiar to him.

  “We hoped that we could bring this about gradually, but matters are racing faster and faster toward utter calamity,” the hooded figure casually commented. “He will probably be angry at me for this, but I think it best it done here this way.”

  “What is this place, Shade? What madness do you have in mind ---”

  A gloved hand rose. “Please, call me ‘Vadym’ . . . this time.”

  I will call you nothing instead, Nathan warily thought to himself . . . then wondered if the warlock could hear that thought. Shade gave no hint that he did, but the many legends bespoke of the accursed spellcaster having a thousand and one abilities no one else could claim.

  “It seems safe enough for now,” Shade continued, the murky countenance turning briefly to the ruins. “No sign of their presence, either.”

  Nathan had no idea what the last meant, but it seemed to hint at someone other than those the wizard would have thought of. Not the rebels? Not the drakes or their servants? Who, then?

  “The entrance is sealed by several wards. Allow me.”

  Before Nathan could protest, their surroundings changed yet again. Once more they stood in an underground chamber, their new destination --- illuminated by a small, emerald ball of light cast by Shade --- even more obviously hewn by intelligent means. Again, there arose not only disturbing, ancient traces of magic, but also that one hint of something so familiar.

  “Where are we?” Nathan asked.

  Shade cocked his head. “Where last the truth tried to reveal itself . . . and did not. Even the Gryphon does not know about this. Only Darkhorse and I --- who were here, then --- would recall it.” The warlock grunted. “Not even the current lord of the Hell Plains knows, despite this being the work of his sire . . . ”

  Nothing of what his sinister companion said made any sense to Nathan. He also kept wondering at his own hesitation. This was Shade, declared threat by the Dragon Emperor. Nathan understood that he should have not ceased trying to subdue the warlock for an instant.

  But the same misgivings constantly remaining with Nathan after recalling Yalak’s lost cousin now stirred more than ever. Nathan’s world was no longer as simple as he had once imagined it. Why it had suddenly become so complex, so full of unsettling questions, the mage could not say ---

  The chamber shook, but the tremor was mild in comparison to the last one, as if the epicenter were much farther away.

  “The lord of the Hell Plains is persistent,” Nathan’s faceless companion murmured. “Let us hope he keeps his focus on Darkhorse . . . ”

  “I still have no idea why you brought me here,” Nathan snapped, finally having enough despite his misgivings. In the Red Dragon’s fury, the drake lord might cause harm to some of the party, including Dayn. “but my s--- my friends need me. Consider that the only reason I don’t try to take your head . . . ”

  The spell he launched with those words should have worked. Certainly, Shade did nothing to stop him. So near, Nathan would have sensed the warlock’s unsettling magical trace the moment the hooded figure cast anything. Yet, it was something else that nullified the wizard’s attempt to depart even before it was finished.

  “You will fail each time, Nathan Bedlam. The stone’s matrix survives well. The spell is ancient. Cast by one of my kind, although not for this purpose.” The hood tilted slightly to the other side. “I never have found out just how or where the previous Red Dragon discovered it. I should do that ---”

  Mind racing madly, Nathan backed away. He wore a small dagger at his waist, but doubted that it would be of any use. Shade likely had a dozen different protective spells around him that would ---

  Nathan stumbled over something. To his dismay, he lost his balance. Worse, he could not even cast a minor spell to keep from falling back.

  Much to Nathan’s surprise, his drop abruptly slowed. As if held by giant invisible fingers, the mage gently dropped to the ground.

  “You should really be more careful,” Shade remarked.

  With a glare, Nathan put a hand to the side in order to push himself to his feet ---

  Instead, he gripped a disturbingly long rock.

  Shade chose that moment to better illuminate the chamber. The glow he created enabled Nathan to better see what it was he gripped.

  It was what remained of a bone. That much, Nathan had already grimly assumed. What he had not expected was the blackened condition of the piece, nor that the bone was so fragile that it crumbled in his grip. An incredible heat had scorched the bone . . . and presumably the flesh upon
it.

  And what Nathan had taken for another rock --- the one upon which he had slipped --- had been another fragment. Indeed, as Nathan’s gaze took in a larger view, the mage saw the full skeletal array . . . and knew without a doubt that it was human.

  He quickly looked back at Shade.

  “I would have saved him, if I could, but the trap was a cunning one and caught even me by surprise.”

  The sadness that Nathan heard in the warlock’s voice surprised the wizard, but it did not answer a most basic question. “What does this --- what does he --- have to do with me?”

  “Everything.”

  With little choice and hoping that it would somehow lead to his freedom, Nathan concentrated on the mysterious remains. Crouching near the burnt bones --- and noting how the entire area surrounding them had been likewise put to the flames --- Nathan saw nothing he could tell about the victim save that, as the warlock had said, it had been a man, not a woman. No garments remained, those obviously burning to ash with the flesh. A few solidified globs of metal marked what might have been a buckle or buttons.

  With Shade clearly offering only riddles, Nathan searched for some other clue. Only after staring for nearly a minute and seeing nothing new with only his eyes did he at last understand that it was with other senses with which he actually had to study the remains. This had been a fellow wizard, after all, even if one that had evidently been considered a traitor by at least one Dragon King.

  He peered at the tableau before him as he did when casting a spell. Not only did Nathan see the lines of force coursing through everything, he saw the gathering of raw power here and there . . . a natural occurrence. It was not a spell that enabled him to do this; this was simply a natural ability of all those with power and thus not apparently affected by whatever dampened Nathan’s ability to cast.

  But all other thoughts vanished as Nathan’s eyes once more swept over the bones and he saw what Shade had wanted him to see. This had been a wizard, yes. Although greatly fragmented, his magical trace still remained. That bespoke of a level of power comparable to Nathan’s own, something not that common . . .