Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade (19 page)

“Stand away!” a voice identical to Magron’s shouted. Edrin shoved aside another dwarf who had been too slow in keeping out of the reach of the huge fiend shackled to the stone wall. Long, deadly claws sought to rip the guard’s face off but only managed to leave three red scars.

Valea gripped his arm. “A Necri!”

As if stirred by the fact that someone recognized what it was, the winged horror renewed its thrashing. The iron chains strained to hold the chiropteran creature and Shade marveled that plain metal could manage. He suspected that there were subtle spells on the chains only notable with careful examination that only a suicidal fool would attempt at the moment.

The Necri’s dead eyes looked over the newcomers as if seeking its next victim. They paused briefly on Valea, who, to her credit, stood unflinching.

Then the monster focused on the sorcerer.

A strange, unsettling quiet overcame the Necri. The imprisoned demon hissed something that the leather straps tied tightly around its short maw prevented the gathered group from hearing clearly.

“Now what’s it doin’?” Edrin asked. “Thing’s even spookier than when it was roarin’ its head off!”

Over and over, the Necri slowly repeated the same single sound. All that time, it stared at the sorcerer.

“Should we unbind the mouth?” asked one guard.

Edrin scoffed. “You want ta lose a finger or two, or maybe your whole hand?”

The other dwarf shook his head.

The Necri was relentless in its hissing. Shade glanced at Valea and saw that she was eyeing him in turn. In her gaze he read her recognition of what the monster was endlessly repeating, a single word that he had understood immediately. After all, the Necri continued to stare right at him.

Shade . . . ,
it called,
 . . . Shade . . .

RAVOS DISMOUNTED
and stepped to the side of the hill his army had just passed. The duke glanced around, sensed no one in the area, then quickly dropped to one knee.

The spell he cast was a simple one. A swirl of blue energy formed before him, becoming a circular image roughly two feet in diameter. In the middle of that image, a shape in no way human coalesced.

The burning eyes of the immense ebony dragon looked directly at Ravos.

“Father,” the drake whispered, briefly lowered his head in homage.

“Ravos . . . my heir . . . ,” was the gasping reply. To any who heard the voice, it was as if the dragon struggled for air with each word.

The duke did not miss the use of the term “heir.” There had been three elder siblings before him, all hatched from eggs with the rare markings. All three of them had at some point been executed for their ambitions. It was not safe to be the heir of a Dragon King, especially this one. Ravos had worked hard to become indispensable and now everything was falling into place.

“We are nearly upon Penacles. The attack is imminent.”

“The City . . . of Knowledge . . . must be hit . . . with all I have . . . given you.”

“It shall be.”

The image receded, revealing more of the cavern housing the Black
Dragon. Now the heavy grey mists of Lochivar could be seen drifting from Ravos’s father. The Dragon King had only ceased breathing them in order to speak to his offspring.

And also evident now was the “gift” of the necromancers, an octagonal device crafted from black amber, rarer than diamond. Yet, the amber itself was only the housing for the sinister spell with which the Lords of the Dead had imbued it. The spell enabled the Black Dragon to breathe out the mists without pause, reinforcing the fanaticism of Lochivar’s warriors and spreading fear among the defenders of Penacles.

“The accursssed . . . Bedlams . . . and that foul abom—abomination the Gryphon . . . mussst be kept . . . unable to detect our . . . true effortsss . . .” A manic tone tinged his words, a tone which had long since become familiar to Ravos. With it came increased sibilance, a further sign of the drake’s fading control.

“They will be.”

“And we . . . must be ready . . . when the tower . . . is found . . .”

Ravos lowered his head again. “We will be.”

A fit of coughing made him look up. In the image, the dragon hacked as if strangling. Ravos quickly lowered his head again before the Dragon King recovered. The Black Dragon had slain servants for lesser transgressions.

“The . . . tower . . . ,” the drake lord rasped, recovering. “The phoenix will transss—transform me . . . make me . . . whole again . . . and I . . . will rule forever!”

“Soon, Father. Soon will come the glorious day.”

The Black Dragon looked away. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled more of the sinister mists. Guided by his will, it floated from view, not only adding to the potency of that cloaking Lochivar but spreading toward southeastern Penacles.

Aware that he had been dismissed, Ravos let his spell dissipate. Staring at the spot where he had viewed his sire, the duke let out a low, mocking hiss. He smiled, revealing his sharp, sharp teeth.

“
I
will be ready, my Father . . . and the tower and its secrets will be mine alone . . . not the necromancers’ . . . not yours . . .”

A brief sound made him quickly look to the side. But instead of one of the shadowy spellcasters, it was a pair of human warriors who had paused to deal with matters of nature.

It was almost certain that they had heard nothing of the conversation nor of Ravos’s comment afterward. Still, the duke drew his sword. Neither the tower nor his intention of betraying his father could go beyond this spot.

The warriors noticed him coming. Each slapped a fist against their chest.

Ravos brought the sword across the torso of the first, spilling out the man’s innards with ease. As the first man fell, the second simply stared. His eyes said that he knew death was coming, but since it was at the hand of the heir to the Black Dragon, there had to be good reason for it.

The duke took his head. The body tumbled back while the head rolled to Ravos’s feet. He grinned at the expertise of his strike.

A few drops of blood had splattered the duke’s face. The drake licked off those within reach of his long, forked tongue, then wiped off the rest with his hand.

Ravos returned to his mount and rode off. The taste of blood only stirred his anticipation. Soon, there would be carnage, but, even better, soon,
he
would be king.

GENERAL MARNER JUMPED
as the wizard appeared in his tent. Even a lifetime in service to the Gryphon had not inured him to a spellcaster’s frustrating habit of arriving in such an abrupt manner. It made even a seasoned veteran soldier feel as if his training was being mocked.

“Forgive the unannounced entrance, General,” Cabe Bedlam immediately said. “It was necessary for me to come here personally and when
you could be found alone. I’ve also made certain that no one outside this tent, not even your sentries, will hear our conversation.”

Marner knew that the wizard was older than he looked but still could not help feeling as if some fresh youth had command over him. He liked the wizard—and thought his taste in wives an excellent one, though he never expressed that opinion out loud—but there were moments when Marner had to remind himself that they were contemporaries.

Those fleeting notions aside, the general knew that the wizard would not have come here unless something disturbing had happened.

“All’s well in Penacles?” he immediately asked.

“No.” Cabe told him what had happened to the Gryphon. Marner’s expression went from disbelief to horror.

“By the Dragon of the Depths!” The commander quickly glanced toward the tent flap. He knew that the guards could not hear anything but considered what would happen when the news did reach the troops.

“We can’t let them know,” Marner finally replied. “They can’t go into battle knowing this. Morale will plummet.”

“We thought the same. None of us like keeping the truth from brave soldiers facing death, General, and if I thought that the Gryphon’s state was permanent, I’d insist you tell them. They’d deserve that.”

“Aye, they would . . . and do.”

The wizard nodded. “But there’s every hope that at some point either my wife’s efforts or the Gryphon’s own tenacity will overcome what’s happened to him. Until we know with all certainty what his fate’s to be, we’ll only add an unnecessary burden atop their shoulders.”

“It’s for the best.” Marner swore. “Forgive me, wizard.”

“Forgive
me
. It’s not fair that you have to have this additional problem while trying to coordinate things. I even wondered whether you should be told, but Troia insisted.”

“Please tell the queen I’m very grateful for her confidence.” Neither the Gryphon nor his mate had any official title, but most of their subjects happily considered them king and queen. Other than human they
might have been—Marner would have never used the word “
in
human” to describe the pair—but they were far more fair in their rule than nearly any other monarch of which the general had heard, even the lords of Talak.

“One more thing,” the spellcaster said, his tone more dour. “Lochivar will be attacking within the next few hours.”

This was a piece of information that did not surprise the commander. “I calculated that the duke would move about then.”

Cabe actually smiled briefly. “Not surprised that the Gryphon and Toos favored you for promotion.” Sobering again, the spellcaster added, “I’ll be ready to help in all ways possible and I have four students who should be able to assist with some results. I’ll also be summoning my daughter after this. She’s very capable.”

“Everything you’ve got I’m not too proud to accept. I was only a green officer when Lochivar last tried to take our kingdom, but I recall the dragons, the magic, and the bloodshed.”

“I remember it all too well, too,” Cabe replied, eyes briefly lowering. “I remember it, too.” He looked up at Marner again, his expression growing resolute. “Lochivar will regret trying again, General. We’ll see to that.”

The wizard vanished.

Marner seized his helmet and exited the tent. The four sentries stood at attention.

“Anything to report?” he asked the most senior.

“All quiet, sir.”

Cabe Bedlam’s spell had held true. Marner felt both grateful and guilt-ridden. Helmet on, the general summoned an aide.

“It’s beginning,” he told the younger officer. “Get everyone together.”

Even before they actually blared, the horns of war long echoed in Marner’s thoughts.

The horns . . . and the cries of the dying that would follow.

TRUE TO HIS WORD,
Cabe sought out his daughter. He had hoped to leave her safe in the Manor but could not expect to protect Valea while others died. She had already protested his decision and would surely be glad to hear that he needed her help.

I only pray that she remains unharmed in the process.

Beyond the Manor walls, the sounds of activity spoke of life, of hope. Within, however, the starkness of the ancient edifice became all the more apparent without the rest of his family present. Gwen he had just left a few minutes prior, but Aurim’s absence resonated. He felt guilty that he had ordered Valea to stay here alone. She had been in the middle of the argument between father and son, trying to make each see the merits of the other’s side.

She’s not a monster, Father!
Cabe could hear his son saying again.
She’s no more that than we are!

I tried to tolerate things, hoping that you’d realize your error,
the elder wizard had replied with equal passion.
She’s recklessly led you into danger, made you ignore the security of your family and friends!

Yssa means well, Father,
Valea had interjected.
But to her brother she had added, But you know that she should have never encouraged meeting behind Mother and Father’s back, Aurim . . .

It had been an argument that no one could win. A furious Aurim had fled to his love, the daughter of a former ally who had proven himself a betrayer in Cabe Bedlam’s eyes. Even the injuries and loss of limb Yssa’s father had suffered had in no manner assuaged the wizard.

Aurim had assumed that the disagreement between his father and hers had been only one factor in his disapproval of Yssa. Indeed, the younger Bedlam had made it abundantly clear that he believed his sire considered her a
monster
.

After all, she
was
the daughter of a Dragon King.

The Green Dragon was Yssa’s father, her mother a human he had loved. Drakes and humans could breed together; that was something of which Cabe and Gwen had secretly been aware for many years. Indeed, they knew why the two races could breed and for that reason Cabe
would never have condemned Yssa as some sort of creature. After all, drakes and humans were the same people.

“Valea?” Even his children did not know the truth. Most of the drakes were as ignorant of it as humans were. Cabe and Gwen had not discovered the facts until only a few years ago themselves, when he had journeyed to the west, to the glittering Legar Peninsula.

When he had found himself face-to-face with the hermitlike drake lord who ruled that land, the Crystal Dragon had known the truth and shown it to the wizard; the drake knew the very origins of the first Dragon Kings and who they had been, they and all those who had been transformed into intelligent dragons.

The Vraad.

“Valea?” he called again, his voice amplified by a simple spell. His call would also enter every room, every hidden corner of the Manor. She could not fail to hear him.

His thoughts drifted back to the encounter with that Dragon King as he remembered the final, shocking secret that the Crystal Dragon had revealed, a secret about himself. Even Cabe could never have believed—

A voice caught his attention. A male voice that was not his son’s, although that was his first thought. It came from none other than where he kept his own library.