Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade (17 page)

“Cabe! Praise be!”

There were few things that could so upset the cat woman. As with Cabe, those things concerned the ones she loved most.

“Something’s happened to the children?” he immediately asked. After news of the attack on Melicard’s son and the knowledge of Troia’s loss years ago of another child to enemies, it seemed logical to assume the worst.

“They’re safe! Gwen just returned. She stayed with them while I searched for the Gryphon. We cannot find him!”

“The Gryphon’s missing?”

“I—we can’t be certain, but he didn’t show up to speak to his staff this afternoon. It’s not been a long time, but he’s never late, as you know.”

“No.” The Gryphon was legendary for his punctuality. Cabe understood her concern. “He mentioned nowhere he might have had to go?”

“No, but you know that he often takes private excursions to better understand the situations going on. Still, he generally leaves some word for me.”

“What about the libraries?”

“I was on my way there now.”

Cabe concentrated. Both he and Troia were transported to the chamber door. Immediately, the wizard could sense the lionbird’s magic at work. There were complex seals on the door, ones not there the other day.

“We may not be able to enter,” he reported with some concern. He focused on the magical seals and they fell away.

His astonishment must have shown, for Troia blurted, “What is it? What just happened?”

“There were new barriers he set. They vanished as soon as I probed them. He must have planned for my arrival.”

As he spoke, Cabe shielded the pair of them. He then caused the entrance to open.

Troia leapt in the moment the way was clear. Cabe cursed himself for letting that happen and quickly followed.

The chamber illuminated, first revealing to them the mangled golems. Cabe strengthened the protective shield.

“Gryph!” Penacles’s mistress jumped past the guardians and landed on all fours next to a limp form. Cabe rushed to her side as she took the Gryphon’s head in her hands.

There were no signs of physical injury, but the lionbird remained unconscious. After a failed attempt to awaken her mate, Troia looked to the wizard for help.

He held a hand over the body, finally noting something near the head. “Someone invaded his head using a spell. The residue is still noticeable. It was cast with skill, with power . . . and its trace is so unique that it can only belong to Shade.”

“Shade!” Her claws extended as her anger flared. “He did this to my husband?”

“He must’ve attempted to enter the libraries. The Gryphon has warning spells attuned to him.”

“I will skin that foul necromancer alive and savor every scream . . .”

Cabe put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Easy, Troia.”

Her anger faltered, replaced in her expression by the fear that was the true driving force in her at the moment. “Is he—is he dying?”

He surveyed the head again. “No. His mind was forced to bury itself, though. There must’ve been some powerful reaction at some point, some careless maneuver by Shade. Doesn’t seem like him. He’s usually more skilled.”

“Does that matter?”

“I’m sorry. Physically, he appears whole. This is something Gwen
would understand better.” He waved his hand and suddenly the Gryphon vanished. “I’ve sent him back to your bed. Let me send you to Gwen so that you can take care of your children while she sees if there is anything she’s able to do for him.”

Troia hugged him. “Thank you, Cabe.”

“I’ll continue my investigation in the meantime.” Without another word, the wizard focused. Troia disappeared.

Without hesitation, he headed for the tapestry. Utilizing its abilities, Cabe found himself a moment later in the vast libraries. Even after so many visits, he was still awestruck by its amazing contents. The temptation to pluck up one of the books remained with him even though he knew better than most that doing so was a waste of time.

“I know you’re here,” he said to the open air. “Let’s not delay things.”

“I am merely awaiting your request,” the gnomelike librarian remarked from his left, standing there as if he had been present the whole time.

Cabe eyed the being with slight mistrust. He and the Gryphon were of the opinion that there was one and only one librarian and that he had a far greater link to this place than was known. Someone had created the libraries; why not him?

It was a futile question to ask. The gnome was a master of answering in riddles.

“Has anyone been here?”

“You have. The current lord of Penacles, too.”

Apparently, I’ll have to be more direct.
“Was Shade here?”

“Absolutely not.”

Cabe was caught off guard by the blunt answer. “Has Shade ever been here?”

The librarian shrugged. “In times past. With the current lord of Penacles. As an ally with more than one of the previous. Sometimes as an enemy of them, as well.”

As far back as anyone knew, the previous rulers of Penacles had all been the Dragon Kings of Clan Purple. The gnome’s remarks interested
Cabe but did nothing to clarify the current situation. “But he hasn’t been here recently? Today?”

“No, master wizard, he has not.”

Cabe tried a different course. “What did Shade look for in the libraries?”

“Many things. He mostly sought freedom from his curse.”

“And did he find anything?”

While the librarian sounded patient, his brow did at last wrinkle slightly at the constant questions. “He still suffers, master wizard.”

Just as he was about to surrender, Cabe thought of one last thing. “I’d like to see the spellwork that would cure Shade.”

The librarian raised a hand. One of the heavy tomes gently flew to it. Somewhat taken aback that his request had brought a result, the wizard accepted the book. He eagerly opened it.

The pages were blank.

“What’s this mean?” he demanded of the gnome.

But the librarian was gone, and when Cabe looked down again, the book had disappeared, too. He glanced up and saw that it had returned to its place on the shelves.

Frustrated, Cabe Bedlam left the libraries. He paused only for a moment in the chamber beyond, then concentrated on his wife.

Cabe,
she responded to his mental entreaty.

I’m on my way. How is he?

I do not know.
Gwen said no more, but no more was needed at the moment. Her simple answer spoke volumes and gave terrible warning for not only Troia and her children, but all of Penacles as well.

They were on the eve of war . . . and their greatest warrior was lost to them.

THE LIBRARIAN REAPPEARED.
In contrast to his generally calm demeanor, he was now sweating profusely and even struggling to regain his breath. Even the highly attuned senses of the mighty Cabe Bedlam had
noted the struggle going on around them, a struggle of wills that the librarian had lost.

He had wanted to give the wizard much more than Cabe had received. The librarian could have answered so many questions and for the first time would have been willing, but in the end, he had bowed in defeat to the true force manipulating not only his precious creation but so much else.

The land will have its way,
he thought bitterly, he who had once believed himself the most knowledgeable, the most learned, of the arrogant Vraad, and was now but a shadow.
The land will have its way with all of you, master wizard. You, your allies, the Dragon Kings, and even the one it fears most . . . Shade.

SHADE HAD HOPED
that the dwarf Magron would come to trust Cabe Bedlam’s daughter enough that he might unbind her companion, but Magron had been wise enough to let another decide his fate.

That other, Edrin, sat upon a wide, flat stone chair worn smooth by generations of dwarven leaders. The back of the chair loomed over the short figure and revealed twin crossed axes of the same design as that wielded by their escort.

“What’ve we got here?” Edrin asked, eyeing the pair skeptically.

To outsiders, dwarves had a tendency to resemble one another, but both Shade and Valea immediately recognized that, despite some change in garments and length of beard, Edrin was Magron’s
twin
. Even the voice was exactly the same.

“We found these while out on our hunt,” Magron said offhandedly. “Figured they should be brought to you.”

“A witch and a warlock, are they? They have the smell and look of ’em.” Without waiting for an answer, Edrin leapt from the seat and descended to the group. Before dealing with the newcomers, he and Magron cheerfully grasped one another’s wrists.

“Twins is rare,” one of the other dwarves said quietly to Valea . . . and by default, Shade. “Ain’t been any others in this generation.”

But it was clearly not simply because they were twins that this pair commanded much respect among their kind. Like Magron, Edrin had
a quick, wily gaze. He only needed a glance at both to judge them well. Fortunately, the dwarven leader did not seem to recognize Shade. The Crystal Dragon’s talisman continued to protect in more ways than one.

“And this fine lady is . . . ?” asked Edrin, bowing to the enchantress with far more grace than one of his stocky frame should have been capable of.

“She says she’s the daughter of the wizard Bedlam.”

“The wizard Bedlam?” Edrin snapped his fingers. “Bring some drink for her! She must be parched!”

As another dwarf ran off to obey, Edrin peered at Shade. “And who’s this one?”

“Gerrod’s his name,” his brother answered. “Not a talkative sort.”

Edrin gave the sorcerer a more thorough study, then asked Valea, “This one your man?”

“Yes,” she answered without hesitation.

Shade withheld any reaction. Cabe’s daughter could have given him away but had chosen a different, perhaps more prudent path. It was possible that if she
had
revealed his identity, they might have still decided that they could not trust her after all. He could not blame her for being cautious.

“You’ll vouch for ’im, then, my lady?”

“I will.”

That was enough for Edrin. “Let ’im loose.”

His brother looked a little hesitant but had Shade’s guards do as commanded. The sorcerer was tempted to depart immediately, but memories of a previous time here began to come together. He still did not recall why he should fear capture by the dwarves, but he knew that they likely had good reason for wanting to do so. What he did remember now was that he had come here because of a possible clue to his search, a clue that had led to nowhere.

And yet . . .

Something mocked him from just beyond the edge of memory, something to do with his previous visit here and the seemingly false clue.
Clearly, the Crystal Dragon had some notion concerning the dwarves.
It would be nice if he had shared that with me, his supposed ally.

There had to be a reason why the Dragon King had thrust him here, and without care that
she’d
be forced to journey at his side. Shade did not trust the drake lord very far and knew that the Crystal Dragon felt the same about him, but both desired to find the tower and so needed one another.

Why am I here, oh Dragon King? Why?

He stretched his arms carefully. The guards watched each move.

Edrin nodded at his caution. At that moment, the dwarf who had run off returned with a tray containing four silver goblets. He offered the tray’s contents to the dwarven leader, who shook his head and indicated the newcomers.

The servant offered Valea first choice. She graciously took one of the goblets. “What is it?”

“The finest dwarven wine, of course!” answered Edrin as Shade took the second goblet and Magron the third. As the leader took up the last, he added, “What did you expect? Ale?”

Rather than answer the obvious, Valea immediately took a sip. Her eyes widened in pleasure. “It’s very delicate yet full of flavor!”

The dwarves grinned. Magron downed his own drink. “Aye, there’s none finer, not even among the elves.” He looked at Shade and his mood soured slightly. “Not thirsty?”

Shade took a healthy swallow. With all honesty, he commented, “The best wine I’ve tasted in many years.”

Tensions around him eased slightly, although for Shade himself, the wine brought a disturbing feeling that had nothing to do with the taste. The wine stirred yet more flashes of memory. He saw another dwarf, this one with a tilted crown on his head. The dwarf was toasting someone—Shade himself, the warlock recalled. That was followed by a glimpse of these very caverns filled with white flame that moved with obvious intelligence, seeking out and searing to ash those dwarves too slow to escape.

The third and last image was of the same dwarven king screaming as his flesh burned away to bone.

His memory as a whole utterly disjointed, Shade had no idea which incarnation had journeyed to Hariak. It might have even been more than one. Whatever the case, his earlier fears when they had first materialized in the hills were confirmed. Shade had not remembered much of anything save that he should not be near the dwarves. Now he began to understand why.

And how long before they realize the truth?

“The wine a bit strong for you?” Edrin asked with some humor.

“I’m not used to such quality,” the sorcerer replied calmly.

His response was met with more approval. Shade allowed himself to relax . . . slightly.

Edrin finished his drink and handed back the goblet. After the others had done the same, he gestured for the outsiders to follow him. Not at all to Shade’s surprise, Magron and a number of the guards followed. Still, the dwarves were being fairly lax considering they had two spell-casters in their midst.

They entered into an even vaster chamber where more of the towering effigies lined the walls. In contrast to those in the previous chamber, these were damaged . . . scorched, to be precise. Shade hid his concern as scores of dwarves throughout the cavern went about their various duties and lives. A column of a dozen marched along with sacks of what seemed like rocks. In the distance, a forge glowed bright. A pair of female dwarves, slightly less stocky and with longer braided hair, led a group of small children into a side tunnel.