Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (111 page)

She blinked. Actually, it was
exactly
like her prison.

Pressing against the wall, Gwen watched as the dragon, surely one of the Storm Lord’s own, circled the region twice before settling on an area far east of her. The beast hovered amidst the storm, then held out the other prison. The second cell had the same ivory appearance as hers had originally had, preventing Gwen from seeing who lay trapped within.

The huge dragon struggled to maintain its position, its master clearly making no effort to ease the storm for its sake. Gwen found that odd. After a few more moments of battle against the storm, the huge beast abruptly released the opaque prison.

It dropped a bone-jarring hundred feet or so, then stopped in mid-air. Gwen gave silent thanks that she had not been awake when her own had been so set. She wondered who the Storm Lord now set high in the sky. Someone of value to him, that was obvious.

Her heart skipped. Could it be—could it be
Aurim
?

But no, that was too foolish. Why would her captor tell her that her son was dead, then put him in a prison within view of her own? Someone else had to be held captive there . . .

Then, her expression took on a bitter cast.

Could it be that the other cell held Yssa?

Fury filled the enchantress as she thought of the half-drake woman who had beguiled Aurim and led him to this terrible place. Gwen battered at the wall again, wishing that she could at least confront Yssa. Because of her this had all happened . . .

The dragon circled the other prison, inspecting it. Apparently satisfied that it would remain in place, the leviathan turned then to gaze Gwen’s way.

She almost expected it to fly to her, but it seemed that the storm was too much for even the Dragon King’s servant. The beast dipped its massive head, then dove out of sight.

For some time, Gwen watched the other prison, waiting to see if it, too, would grow transparent. If Yssa did lay within, had the Storm Lord dragged her here so that she, too, could become his consort? It would not have entirely surprised the enchantress, considering her captor.

Nothing happened and at last Gwen sat back. In truth, as angry as she was against the Green Dragon’s daughter, she also sympathized with her present situation. She wished such a fate no more on Yssa than she did on herself. If Gwen could have rescued the other woman, she would have, but all that was simply a flight of fancy. The enchantress could not save herself, much less Aurim’s love.

The storm continued to churn. Several times, the other prison completely vanished as some thick, black cloud came between them. Gwen watched it, trying to see if at least she could discover some weakness in her own cell by what the other did.

But nothing came to mind. When next the other prison vanished among the storm clouds again, an exasperated Gwen fell back on the plush bed and stared up in frustration.

Only then did she see that someone stared back at her from above.

It was not the eyes of the Dragon King among the clouds, though, but rather something far more astounding. On the upper edge of the prison, sat a cloaked and hooded form who peered down at her in what seemed curiosity. “Seemed” was as best as Gwen could tell, for there was no sign of the face save a hint of chin. He—she knew it to be a “he”—sat atop the floating prison entirely oblivious to either the raging storm or the tremendous heights. Not a hint of wind tousled his hood, not a drop of rain moistened his flowing cloak.

Gwen could only gape and wonder if her nightmare had just grown worse, for she knew that figure, even if his face was hidden—and perhaps more so
because
it was.

“Shade . . .” she whispered. “It can’t be . . .”

He was dead. Darkhorse had seen him die. Queen Erini of Talak had vouched for that death, too.

But then, Shade had died hundreds of times before.

No one knew for certain his origins, although Cabe believed him one of the Vraad sorcerers, the legendary progenitors of the humans living today. Whether true or not, what
was
known was that, somewhere deep in the past, he had attempted to make himself immortal. But the spell had gone horribly awry and Shade had instead been cursed with an endless series of lives, each blossoming full-grown whenever the previous was slain.

Had that been all there was to it, Gwen would have had no fear. However, Shade’s self-inflicted curse was more complex, more devious. His face forever an incomplete blur, he came back from the dead the opposite in soul what he had been in his previous incarnation. The Shade who had been ally against the old Dragon Emperor had become a sinister villain seeking to suck dry the power wielded by Cabe through the crystal magic of the earth-burrowing Quel. Those two personae, each with their own chosen names, had been only the latest of an unbroken string of good and evil, good and evil. Over the centuries, Shade had both helped wreak havoc and build peace. To every race of the Dragonrealm, the name Shade was both revered and cursed, honored and feared.

He seemed to at last take notice of her interest in him. The hooded form stood up as if on a tranquil, even plain. Shade stamped his booted foot once—and suddenly sank through the wall of Gwen’s prison.

She moved cautiously, trying not to stir whatever personality drove him now. It should have picked a name by this time, as they all did. Would it be like Simon, who had sacrificed himself in battle against Azran Bedlam’s avian Seekers—or more like Madrac, the one who had hunted her husband?

Folding his legs, he hovered a few feet above her. Even close, Gwen could not make out the face within. She caught glimpses of a dark-haired man almost youthful, but never enough to be certain.

“Do I know you?” Shade suddenly asked.

His question so astounded her that the enchantress momentarily forgot her imprisonment. The personae always recalled their past friends and foes, yet another horrific part of the curse. Shade had often slaughtered those who had befriended him in previous incarnations . . . a fact that would sicken him only when again he returned to the side of light.

“I am—I am Gwendolyn Bedlam, Shade. Of course you know me.” She would not cower.

“Shade . . .” He cocked his head to the side. “Yes . . . I remember that.” The hood straightened. “Thank you,” Shade added politely.

“What—what do you want?”

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t decided which direction to go. I’ve spent quite some time thinking it over, but I still couldn’t choose.” He hovered lower, stopping just inches above the bed. His visage remained murky, unreadable. “I might still be sitting there still if you hadn’t come along.”

Gwen tried to keep her tone calm. So far the warlock had done nothing harmful. He sounded more confused than anything. Perhaps she could guide him, then utilize his powers to escape this unsettling prison. “And why was my appearance so important?”

“I really don’t know. I suppose from what you said that it’s because I knew you once.”

“We could discuss this at length, if you like. If you could take me from here to somewhere more—”

“But he wants you here,” the hooded form interrupted. “Should I remove you from him? I haven’t decided that, either.”

There was no telling just how long before the Storm Dragon might check on her. Shade represented Gwen’s only hope of escape. She had to convince him that they were better off solving his problems elsewhere.

She sat up and smoothed her hair. The enchantress did not do the latter in an attempt to infatuate Shade, but because it allowed her a moment to think.

“I know you better than most, Shade. I’ve made a long study of your—your situation. I can help you, but this is hardly the place. We need somewhere quieter.” When her companion said nothing, she added, “He could come back at any moment and, if he does, he’ll make certain that you won’t ever be able to speak with me again.”

A black-gloved hand went to the out-of-focus chin. “There is something in what you say.”

“We should leave immediately—”

The words had not even finished leaving her mouth when, without warning, Shade reached out and seized her wrist. He stood, both feet firmly planted on the cushions, and looked out at the storm.

“I can sense him,” the warlock said. “His thoughts are near, but not on you . . .” He pointed at the other cell. “Or there, even. They seem scattered, almost as if he sleeps . . .”

Gwen paid no attention to his babbling, her concern suddenly focused on the second prison. Yssa. Gwen had entirely forgotten about the half-drake. No matter what she thought of Yssa’s involvement with Aurim, she could not leave the younger woman to the Storm Lord’s insanity.

“Shade . . . we need to take her with us, too.”

“Does she know me, too?”

It was doubtful that the Green Dragon’s daughter had ever met Shade, but Gwen replied, “Not quite so much, but, yes, she should definitely be included.”

He nodded decisively. “Then, we’ll go get her now.”

Without warning, Shade walked through the wall.

And Gwen, despite her sudden reservations, had no choice but to follow.

Immediately the howling wind and torrents of rain sought to bowl her over. Thunder threatened her eardrums and the lightning, so close, almost blinded her.

But Shade, ever the creature of fantastic actions, waved his hand and around them the elements all but stilled. He then guided her along as if they both walked on a quiet woodland path instead of thin air. The savage wind barely moved his hood.

As he led her toward the second prison, Gwen marveled at the depths of his power. She had known Shade to be in many ways stronger than any other spellcaster, but never had she imagined this.

Gwen tried not to think about what would happen if he released his grip on her. The enchantress doubted that she could maintain her concentration long enough to save herself, especially with the storm buffeting her.

Shade did not pause until they stood before the opaque wall. He cocked his head as if listening, then told Gwen, “His thoughts still drift. We may enter.”

That said, the warlock touched the wall with his other gloved hand. His fingers sank through. Shade immediately stepped inside, taking Gwen along.

From within came a gasp. Yssa pressed against the opposing end, staring at the two newcomers open-mouthed.

Her eyes swept over Shade, then turned to the one that she knew. Her cheeks reddened. “My Lady Bedlam . . .”

The rage that Gwen had held in check suddenly threatened to boil over. She satisfied herself with a glare at the Green Dragon’s half-human daughter, then replied, “You’ll be coming with us, Yssa.”

Standing, the half-drake woman glanced at Shade again. The hooded figure held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it.

“I hope you know much about me,” Shade remarked casually.

Yssa frowned. “I don’t under—”

“This isn’t the time or place to begin our discussion,” Gwen quickly interrupted. “Shade, if you please?”

As Yssa gaped at this new revelation, the cloaked warlock led the pair through the wall.

But the storm was not the only thing to greet the escaping trio.

Through the black clouds burst a monstrous form. The dragon soared toward them, its huge maw open. It roared, a harsh sound that cut through the thunder. Crimson orbs glared at the tiny figures and the dragon stretched forth its massive claws.

Undaunted, Shade walked toward it.

Both Gwen and Yssa struggled to pull him back, the notion of meeting a dragon in such a manner hardly sane, but the warlock dragged them forward with no effort whatsoever.

Gwen searched inside herself for her link to the forces from which she drew her magic. This time she felt it, but only as a faint sensation. Hardly enough to sufficiently cast a spell, especially one effective against the oncoming behemoth.

The gray dragon roared again. The huge maw opened wide, revealing sharp teeth nearly as tall as its intended victims. Its wings seemed to envelop the sky as it neared. It was one of the largest dragons that the enchantress had seen in her entire life.

As it closed, Shade suddenly released his grip on both women.

Gwen screamed as loudly as Yssa—screams that faltered when neither plummeted earthward. The two drifted helplessly in the storm, Shade’s remarkable power keeping both of them alive even while he focused on the savage leviathan.

The hooded figure stretched his arms to the side as if seeking to embrace the winged giant. The dragon slowed, apparently suddenly wary of this tiny creature floating in the sky who showed no proper fear in his moment of death.

Shade brought his gloved hands together.

A crack of thunder dwarfing any so far heard shook the heavens. Gwen and Yssa put their hands to their ears in a futile attempt to block out the overwhelming sound.

As if struck by a solid blow, the dragon tumbled backward over and over. It roared in confusion and sought desperately to right itself. Only when it had tumbled far into the distance did it finally begin to recover.

“Did you see that?” Yssa called, as astounded as Gwen by the warlock’s might. “I’d heard that he knew all manner of spells, but—”

The rest of her comment ended in a startled scream. Gwen had no opportunity to react, for, at the same time, a terrible force pressed against her body and she was flung high into the storm. A cry as desperate as that by Yssa poured from her mouth.

The second dragon flew the two stunned women far from the scene of the astounding battle. Gasping for air, suddenly soaked by the horrendous storm, Gwen watched in horror as the first beast soared toward Shade. At the same time, the dark clouds above and around the hooded figure rumbled ominously.

With a heart-stumbling roar, the storm unleashed a relentless barrage of lightning bolts at Shade. The dragon approaching him let loose with a fearsome spray of fire . . .

But the beast carrying Gwen and Yssa veered away from the struggle, leaving the question of Shade’s fate hanging. The enchantress could not imagine that he could survive such an attack. But if Shade had died, did that mean that he would even now be resurrected elsewhere? If so, would he be in the same confused state of mind?