Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II

by Richard A. Knaak

  That would also not solve her present dilemma. Sorcery was her only chance of success. What sort of spell, though?

  One of the men nodded off briefly and was knocked awake by his companion, who seemed none too lively himself. Their exhaustion reminded Erini of her own, but she dared not dwell on it too long for fear she would collapse. Still, the scene had given her the answer. It should not be too difficult to make men who were already tired slip far enough into slumber. From there, she could take one of them and try to coax the information from his unprotected mind.

  Relaxing despite the natural tendency for just the opposite in such a situation, Erini found she knew which areas of the spectrum would aid her spell. In her mind, she saw the colors blend and shape themselves, forming a pattern. A part of her understood that what was happening was actually taking place in less than the time it takes a person to blink. This was what Drayfitt had been steering her toward. Soon, it might be so automatic to her that the actual process would seem instantaneous. Drayfitt had said that.

  The results of her spell became noticeable instantly. The guard who had dozed off only moments before collapsed completely, falling back against the wall and sliding to the floor. His grip on his sword relaxed, but not until he was almost all the way down. The resulting clatter was hardly audible.

  The second man’s fall proved more nerve-wracking. He fought the spell, almost as if he had enough sense left to understand what was happening. He raised his sword arm up to his forehead, as if trying to support his sleep-laden mind, and dropped the blade. The weapon struck the hard floor with an echoing rattle that Erini was certain would bring new men rushing down the hall at any moment.

  Unable to resist any longer, the second guard fell to his knees, then face-first onto the marble. His helmet added to the distant reverberations of the sword.

  When neither man had moved after a minute and battle-ready newcomers had not charged madly into the hall from every direction, Erini stepped out from the corner she had been hiding behind and investigated the two men. The first guard was sleeping soundly; there was even a satisfied smile on his lips. The second man was not so well off. He slept, but his nose had been broken from the fall and blood spilled on the floor. Only the spell kept him sleeping. The pain was evident in his twitches. Erini wondered if the pain would eventually give him the strength to overcome her enchantment. If so, it meant that she had to work even faster than she had planned.

  Turning back to the first man, she leaned near one of his ears and whispered commands…

  The ensorcelled guard’s arms hung limply by his sides. His eyes were closed. He looked as if someone had strung him up. That would never do. She gave him a few extra commands, hoping there was no immediate limit to such things. It would not do to have confusion stir him from the spell.

  A minute later, he was ready. To all eyes, it now appeared as if she were his prisoner. The scowl on his face was very real. The gleam in his eyes made him a man carrying out orders from the highest authority: Quorin, of course. If anyone stopped him, he would say that the counselor had decided to give the two one last moment together so that the princess could see how handsome her betrothed was without his false face. Erini had trouble with the last, but it might prove necessary. Such comments would hopefully put the other men at ease.

  While she stood there, assuring herself that all was in readiness, a sudden, horrible notion burst forth. She looked up at the mesmerized figure, who stared straight ahead, waiting to begin his new role. “Do you know where King Melicard is being held?”

  “Eas’rn t’nnels. Rat land.”

  Rat land? She let that slide, happy that she had not gone to all this trouble for nothing. In her haste to test her abilities, Erini had totally forgotten to ask him the all-important question first.

  From the other guard she took a small dagger. Not much of a threat, but one never knew. The princess secreted the blade in one boot, hoping she would not be forced to run very quickly while it was still hidden in there. Then, Erini turned to the guard and whispered, “Lead.”

  The next few minutes made the previous few seem almost heavenly. Erini’s heart sounded like a stampede of heavily laden warhorses. It was astonishing that the sound did not echo through every corridor. She kept one hand close to the blade—on the off-chance that the soldier had completely fooled her and was even now bringing her to her own cell. The trek was taking her into regions of the palace that she had not known even existed. It amazed the princess to think that there was still so much she had not investigated. If she survived, Erini intended to survey every plan of this behemoth and then double-check every corridor and room personally.

  Dreams of entering into such minor crusades kept her from going completely insane with anxiety. Too many things seemed to count on her. She had welcomed them in the past, but none had ever involved death—and so much of it—or the use of questionable abilities. Erini was no coward; that was not her fear. What ate at her was the fact that she might not be enough. Melicard, Iston, Galea, and Magda… they and so many others would likely die if she did not succeed.

  A rough hand grabbed her arm. She almost lashed out with whatever her abilities would give her, then realized that she had fallen behind the ensorcelled sentry. He looked at her as if seeing someone else.

  “Come on. This way.” His voice was slurred, something that could be explained away as from exhaustion. She quickly reminded him of that fact. He coughed his acknowledgment of the command—a trick Erini had mixed in with the original commands—and resumed the journey. Erini kept pace with him this time, noting that they were heading toward a darkened stairway.

  Down below the earth again. I should have known! It would make things that much more difficult—and that much more dependent on her abilities.

  They descended together and, at the bottom of the stairway, her plan received its ultimate test. Four sentries stood guarding the underground passageway. Unlike the one beside her, these men did not look in the least bit tired. They studied the newcomers, first with veiled curiosity, then with eye-widening interest when they discovered who it was they were seeing.

  One of them, possibly the leader, possibly not, pointed the tip of his mace at Erini’s companion. The others were armed with blades of varying wear. All looked far more skilled at using the weapons than the mesmerized figure at her side. “The cripple’s woman! You’ve caught her!”

  “Yeah.” The answer issued forth easy enough, but Erini’s guard had been ordered not to continue unless pressed.

  “Why bring her down here? The master said no one’s to see the prisoner.”

  Erini forced herself not to look at her companion and try to guide his answer. It would have to be his response alone. “New orders. The counselor wants her to spend a last few minutes with him. See how pretty he is. See what she would’ve married.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, but then malicious grins began to appear. This was something they would have expected from a leader such as Mal Quorin. Destroy the last good memories of Melicard. Turn his betrothed’s love to disgust. None of them could fathom a woman continuing to care for a “cripple,” though Erini was of the silent opinion that, even without the elfwood to mask his face and replace his arm, Melicard was worth a thousand of these men.

  “Go on,” the leader signalled.

  The princess’s guard stumbled a little, nearly causing her heart to fail. Had they looked closely, they might have noticed the glazed look that was returning to his eyes. Fortunately, they assumed it was something else.

  “You’d better report to Ostlich when you’re through with her. He don’t want anyone dropping on duty. Not tonight.” The leader indicated a scar running across one of his men’s face. “Edger here stays real alert now, don’t you Edger? Sometimes up to four days!”

  The one called Edger nodded, but said nothing. Erini’s companion returned the nod automatically and added a slow “Yeah.” His words were becoming more slurred. Fortunately, he was already leading
her past them.

  When they were out of sight, she started to breathe a sigh of relief—only to cut it short when two more guards came into view. They leaned against a wall in which several cell doors stood as grim reminders of some of Talak’s less-than-pleasant history. One of them looked up.

  “What’s goin’? Why’s she here?”

  Her puppet did not respond. Erini pretended to stumble, prodding him into activity as she bumped into his side. He repeated his short explanation concerning Quorin’s sadistic little game. His words were slow, but understandable.

  The look that passed between the two sentries at the cell indicated that they thought something besides exhaustion had taken its toll on the newcomer, something with more than a little kick to it. One man licked his lips, evidently dreaming of what it would be like to have a drink after so long on duty.

  Seemingly convinced, they unlocked the door. The princess wanted to rush in, take Melicard in her arms, but could not so long as she needed the charade to continue. That meant agonizing heartbeats as she forced herself to keep pace with the shuffling soul beside her.

  A figure huddled against the far wall, chained by his hands and feet. There was no light in the cell; the prisoner’s upper body was in complete darkness and the lower was only a vague shadow. Behind her, the cell door slammed shut. That was the ensorcelled soldier’s cue. He released his hold on the princess and stared blankly in the direction of the prisoner. To outside eyes, he would be watching the two.

  No longer able to contain herself, Erini rushed over to the worn figure. “Melicard?”

  The head slowly turned toward her. It was Melicard! Until this moment, she had still feared that something was amiss.

  His face, when she saw it, threatened to tear her heart asunder. They had tortured him! She forced herself to look closer and saw that she was not entirely correct. There were bruises and cuts, true. He had been beaten and badly. Quorin would pay dearly for that. What she thought were burns, however, were what had been hidden beneath the elfwood mask he had always worn. This was what was left of his true visage.

  Deep pits of scorched and torn flesh streaked across the one side of his face. That was horrifying enough. The other side, the one that had received the brunt of the wild magic… Erini recalled only one thing in her life that had ever looked like this. A fire in the royal stables of Gordag-Ai. A fire that had burned to death four horses and injured one of the young boys that helped take care of the animals. One of those horses had broken free of the fire toward the end, a maddened, flame-drenched beast whose face, neck, and body had been burned to the bone at various points. It had run in confused circles for more than a minute, nearly spreading the fire further, before the life within that twisted shell had finally abandoned it. Like the horse, Melicard’s face had been torn open to the very bone and, thanks to the power of the artifact that had caused it, those wounds would not heal. Even now, even in the dark, she could see them glisten moistly, as if inflicted only this day.

  “The fruit… of… my labors.” Melicard smiled grimly. The open side of his face looked like nothing less than a grinning corpse. Despite herself, Erini had to turn her eyes away for at least a moment.

  He noted the reaction. “The storytellers never speak of this type… of scene. Either that… or they gloss… gloss over it.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s not you—”

  “It’s never me.” The sarcasm was biting.

  Erini looked him squarely in the face. “It’s not you. When I saw your face, I felt your pain, wondered how you could have gone on—I don’t know if I could have—and cursed dear Counselor Quorin for every day of his existence!”

  “Quorin.” Melicard grew cold. “I was a fool of the highest rank, wasn’t I? How many loyal humans and drakes did the Silver Dragon sacrifice to assure brave, clever Quorin’s place at my side? How many? I never saw it once. I was so… so proud of myself and so ready to take them all on. Look what it has cost me. Part of my body. My kingdom. My life.” He closed his good eye. “Worst of all, it’s cost me you.”

  “No.” She touched his hand. “It hasn’t.”

  “I doubt if our future together is longer than another minute or two. Surely my esteemed advisor’s man there has orders to drag you out of here. This is just a torturous game, letting us see one another and then separating us again.”

  It was time to explain. Erini leaned forward. “This is no game of that foul grimalkin! That is what the sentries outside are supposed to think. My guard is under my influence.”

  The king eyed her in open curiosity. “Influence?”

  “Like—like mesmerism.”

  “Mesmerism.” He did not seem completely convinced. Melicard indicated the chains that held him. “What about these? Mesmerism will not work on these, my princess.”

  “I—I can deal with them.” She tried to reach for the cuff around his wrist, but he refused to let go of her hand for the moment. Trying to hide the worst of his face, he tilted his head to one side and gave her as honest a smile as he could manage.

  “My princess… my queen.”

  When their hands finally separated, Erini took hold of the cuff and examined it. It had a simple lock on it—not that she knew anything about picking locks—and was worn with age. The rust interested her the most. She had succeeded in lulling to sleep two men who had already been tired. Could it be possible to use the same concept to encourage the spread of rust across the cuff? Make it so brittle that a simple tap or two would shatter it?

  As she thought about it, her fingers unconsciously rubbed the cuff. Tiny streaks appeared. Erini gasped. Melicard, who could not see as well from his angle, grunted his curiosity. The princess did not respond, watching in fascination as the entire cuff and even part of the chain turned dark in the space of a few seconds.

  She took his arm by the wrist and, sobbing like a grief-stricken, frail princess, muttered audibly, “Oh, Melicard! What will happen to us?”

  The king offered no resistance, leaving things in her care. As Erini moved in what appeared to simply be a desperate hug of her beloved, she brought the cuff down against the wall. The sound was buried by her words and the rattle of the chains.

  The cuff shattered.

  “Impo—” was all that escaped from Melicard before he succeeded in smothering his surprise. Erini immediately went to work on the leg cuffs and found, to her joy, the spell working perfectly both times. She did not, however, try to share her joy with Melicard. Erini feared to even look at his face now. Not because of his appearance, but because of what he must by now have come to realize; his bride-to-be was a sorceress.

  “Erini—” Melicard whispered.

  “I think that verifies it, then,” came the one voice she feared to hear.

  Leaping to her feet, Erini shielded Melicard. Whatever aid her abilities would give her she would gladly accept. Anything, especially if it meant the end of Mal Quorin.

  One of the guards unlocked the cell door and opened it. Quorin stepped through alone, confident in his power. Erini’s mouth twitched upward. Not this time. She understood her abilities better. The traitor would soon find out what power actually was.

  Behind her, Melicard had risen to his feet. He would not have someone like Quorin stand above him. Erini drew strength from his act.

  The counselor still advanced, slowly and silently. He appeared very much the cat he resembled. His habit of always seeming to show up where and when others least expected him added to that effect. Even the smile.

  Perhaps I will turn you into the mangy rat-eater you really are, Master Quorin! The thought appealed to the princess greatly. She would even let him stay and keep the stables free of other pests.

  “Did you realize only now that your bride was a sorceress, your most royal majesty? I suspected as much, though I wasn’t certain until she escaped from my men earlier.” Quorin looked at Erini. “Of course, my lady, I knew where you would be rushing to and took a quicker, more direct route. Now I have you again. Al
l that remains are your stubborn countrymen and a few random guards who escaped my net. Talak will not even know of its change of rulers until the northern gates open and my master comes riding triumphantly through.”

  “Bearing a silver banner?” Melicard asked grimly.

  “Of course. This will be the true mark of his destiny, his right to be emperor of all races. The capture and destruction of the monster king. Your crusades will be at an end. A sign of strength will bring his brethren around—save the outcast lord of the Dagora Forest. With the united strength of the others, however, no opposition will stand in the Dragon Kings’ way. They will bring this land back to the glory it had before the Turning War.”

  The king laughed, though it was evident that to do so hurt him further. “Did your master train you to say all of that? Look—look at him, Erini. Would you ever believe that he and these others were actually men and not drakes in disguise?”

  The barb struck Quorin harder than he pretended it did. Erini, who had seen and felt his rage, watched him closely. She had just about formulated the sort of spell she felt appropriate for one such as him. Something decorative. A few seconds more and she would be ready.

  Turning his attention to her, Mal Quorin said, “There was a chance you might have been useful in regard to Gordag-Ai—or even to my tastes in entertainment—but I don’t care for the thought of a sorceress alive and neither does my lord. Your betrothed will get the opportunity to see you die more or less painlessly before we prepare him for the coming of Talak’s new ruler.”

  Erini unleashed her spell at Quorin. If it worked, he would envy the men who had died trying to recapture the princess.

  Nothing.

  No! Erini stood drained, horrified. Please! Not now! Her abilities had abandoned her again!

  “Have you never wondered why I feared no tricks by that doddering old fool, Drayfitt?”