Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (114 page)

“No!” roared Valac. “I’m Shade! I’m the original! I chose first!”

Nathan stepped toward him. “I chose better . . . and I will protect my friends!”

Raw energy swirled around both cloaked forms. Aurim pulled his mother away from the pair. He delved back into the spell keeping her frozen and, perhaps because he now no longer had to concern himself with the Shades’ argument, found the key.

His own spell acted instantaneously. His mother’s body heated up and the layer of ice surrounding her melted in one quick rush that left a puddle on the stone floor. Gwen gasped and slumped in his arms, her hair clinging to her head.

She coughed twice, then managed to look up at him. “A-Aurim . . .”

“Easy, Mother! It’s all right . . .”

“No . . . Aurim . . . Yssa—”

He steeled himself. “I don’t know why she did this to you, but—”

“No!” Gwen shook her head. “Listen! The Storm Dragon is responsible! She couldn’t help herself!”

As relieved as Aurim was to hear that, he could not concern himself with it now. Despite her attempts to look stronger, Aurim could tell that she could barely stand, much less cast a spell. It would be up to him to lead them from this place.

Then . . . then he could come back for Yssa.

But his mother seemed to read his thoughts. “Forget me, Aurim! I’ll be fine! Go after Yssa! She’s with him . . . and . . . and Aurim . . . there’s something wrong . . . he’s hiding a secret, I think . . .”

Aurim swallowed, barely hearing the rest of what Gwen had said. The Storm Lord had Yssa. Aurim stood there, torn between two courses of action. His mother needed him—but so, clearly, did the woman he loved.

Just then, a fearsome burst of golden energy sent Aurim and his mother rolling away. The two Shades had finally attacked one another. They stood outlined within that terrible burst, neither seeming at all affected by the awesome forces unleashed.

“What’s happening?” Gwen managed, at last staring at the identical figures. “There are—there are
two
of him!”

“I don’t know . . . hasn’t this happened?”

“Never! There’s only ever been one Shade . . . and that’s been more than enough . . .”

Whatever the cause for the creation of the two Shades, they clearly had an utter hatred of one another. They tore free pieces of the cavern and tossed them at will at each other. They summoned energy and transformed it into monstrous mouths or slashing blades flying through the air. They cast one vile attack after another, unleashing power that would have slain any other creature a hundred times over.

But not once did either manage so much as a scratch.

Their power was so equal, their minds so identical, that they knew how to defend against each assault before it could cause any harm. The duel took on an almost comic aspect as each fruitlessly sought to slay the other to prove that they were the one and original Shade.

The chamber shook with each successive attack. Aurim wondered how the Dragon King could have possibly not noticed what was happening within his very citadel—and then realized that he surely had.

Which meant that they were all in much, much more danger than they had imagined.

“Mother, do you think that you can cast any sort of spell to shield yourself from danger?”

“I faced the Dragon Kings with your great-grandfather, Aurim. He showed me many tricks. I’ll be fine. You go after her . . . but be careful!”

Aurim nodded. “He has to have been watching us. He must be letting everything play out.”

“I know, Aurim. I’ve been trying to sense him, but he’s kept himself shielded. Be wary, he’s very cunning . . . and . . . and I can’t explain it, but there’s definitely something different about him, almost as if he’s—” she shook her head. “Never mind. Just be careful.”

“Don’t worry, Mother. You just take care of yourself. I’ll hurry.”

“Stay linked to me this time, my son.”

“As you wish.” Aurim stepped away from her. Gwendolyn Bedlam drew a circle over her head. As she did, an emerald shield formed there. The enchantress pointed down with her finger and the shield followed, draping her from head to toe. Once the shield touched the floor, Gwen nodded to her son.

Aurim concentrated. The Dragon King might have shielded his presence, but had he done so for one that the wizard knew almost as good as his own family—and in some ways better?

Yssa . . . where are you?

At first Aurim felt nothing, but then, at the very edge of perception, he noticed a familiar trace. He clung to that trace, focusing his mind on it with all his will.

And then Aurim transported himself to its source. As he materialized, he immediately sensed the inhuman presence of the Dragon King in the shadows behind him. Without hesitation, the wizard cast a potent spell and hurtled it toward the direction he had noted the menace.

“No, Aurim, no!” called a feminine voice near him.

A tremendous force struck him hard. The wizard flew across the darkened chamber, smashing against what could only be one of the rocky walls. Tumbling to the floor, he rolled back to where he had first materialized, his entire body numb from pain.

Soft hands immediately touched his head, his face, and he heard Yssa speaking, but the words did not penetrate.

Yet, the voice of another had no difficulty piercing the fog.

“Welcome, Bedlam. I am pleased you prove yourself predictable. I am pleased that
all
of you have have acted so predictably.”

It was not the voice he had expected. Forcing his head up, Aurim looked past Yssa to where a fiery light now illuminated the other end of the chamber.

The dragon dwarfed even those that Aurim had seen outside. A huge crest of jagged scale coursed down from his forehead to the tip of his tail. He was of an iridescent gray and silver and his unblinking eyes glowed a bright red, like the setting sun. Teeth taller than the wizard filled a maw capable of devouring a score of Aurims with a single snap.

A dark blue aura crackled around the Storm Lord and even from where he stood the blond spellcaster could sense the powerful forces emanating out from the Dragon King. Every bit of the tempest that covered Wenslis originated from the awesome power of its master.

A pedestal as high as the wizard’s waist stood before the leviathan. Upon it, a black onyx crystal as large as Aurim’s throbbing head glowed. In it, he could just make out the two Shades in mortal combat.

Aurim glanced from the crystal back to the Dragon King. He stared defiantly into the drake’s eyes—and only then did he realize that they not only did not stare back, but they seemed empty, unfocused. The Storm Lord appeared utterly lost within himself, almost as if he were in a trance or even dreaming.

“He sleeps,” said the voice that had welcomed him. “I give him his dreams of godhood and he sleeps and savors it while I deal with my own destiny.”

Then Aurim noticed at last the smaller figure standing to the left of the gargantuan dragon, a figure whose mere presence answered much but created a host of new questions as well.

A third
Shade . . .

VIII

AS HER SON
vanished, Gwen tried desperately to concentrate on the situation. Something was indeed terribly wrong. There was no reason that the Storm Lord would let this struggle go on in his own sanctum unless it served his purpose.

But what?

Something about the Dragon King himself still bothered her. Gwen had faced many of his kind, but now and then this drake lord spoke and acted different. Once in awhile, he sounded less a Dragon King and more—more human?

Gwen’s eyes widened and her troubled gaze returned to the twin figures and their powerful if so far fruitless battle. The enchantress studied them, thought about what they represented—and suddenly a question that held the potential to answer everything reared its monstrous head.

How many more Shades
were
there?

“CALL ME MORDRYN
. . . this time,” the third Shade said with a cursory bow.

Aurim watched the hooded form with narrowed eyes. He sensed a difference in this variation. This Shade was more confident, more complete. He had known for quite some time what course he followed and what name he chose for himself.

“How long?” the wizard asked, gaze flickering to the dragon. The Storm Dragon’s mouth curled up slightly at the end, as if he enjoyed his dream. “How long have you been here?”

“Since my . . . death,” the murky figure replied. A hint of bitterness suddenly tinged his words. “I thought I had finally passed beyond, finally had rest . . . but instead I had only come
home.
” He stretched forth his arms to take in the entire chamber. “This is where it all went awry . . . this is where I tried for the last time to make the spell right . . . and instead the foul land cursed me for my defiance.”

“But Darkhorse saw you die! Saw you dissipate—”

Shade lowered his arms. The hooded face somehow managed to radiate frustration. “And I regenerated here, weak, utterly confused . . . and discovered that my fate had only worsened.”

Contrary to what he had hoped, the curse had not been lifted. Instead, it had been altered in a manner most diabolical. Where once there had been one Shade who fought for his identity, who fought to become truly human, truly one being—there were now several, all scattered far from one another.

The warlock touched the onyx crystal almost reverently. “This is how the lord of Wenslis wields such power. It draws from the earth, sun, and moons. It feeds him constantly—but now it also feeds me.” He caressed the stone, then glanced back at the dreaming Dragon King. “I was sliced to so many shadows . . .
all
of whom were without purpose, without focus . . . but when
I
discovered his secret, I discovered it also the way to become whole again . . .” The warlock laughed, a harsh sound. “I took it from him so easily! The Storm Lord! So distracted by his visions of grandeur, of omnipotence, that he fell prey to a simple spell any apprentice could have cast! I caught him slumbering, dreaming of his perfection . . . and I simply made that dream go on and on and on . . .”

To fool the Dragon King’s subjects afterward had been no trouble whatsoever. Drake or human, they feared their master and knew his reclusive ways. “A mere illusion,” Shade added, briefly flickering to the form of his spellbound host. “A conjurer’s trick.”

“But why take us, then?” Aurim asked standing straight. “Why bring us into this?”

Despite the fact that what little he could see of Shade’s face was a blur, the wizard thought he noticed the hooded figure scowl. “Even in dreaming, the Storm Lord is strong. He is still the storm over this realm and as it, he sensed you . . . first you pair, then your mother, come to find you. For the first time, it almost woke him . . . but I acted fast enough, playing into his dream and deepening his trance further to make certain that it would not happen again. I let all his desires play out.” He nodded toward Yssa. “Even his absurd interest in finding a mate befitting his ‘godliness’.”

“And the other Shades? Why did one come to us, another to my mother? How does that work in your plans?”

“Pure coincidence. Nothing more. A fortuitous bit of luck, that is all.”

But Shade said it so quickly that Aurim suspected otherwise. His other selves had been drawn to the outsiders, but for what reason, clearly even the warlock did not know. That gave the wizard hope, for it showed that this Shade did not entirely command the situation. It might yet be possible to free them from his grasp.

The onyx crystal suddenly flared. Shade leaned over it, his body radiating anticipation. “Yes!”

Aurim could not help but also look into it . . . and what he saw filled him with apprehension. The duel finally had a victor. Even as they watched, one of the other Shades shrieked. He staggered forward and as he did, his legs, his arms—everything—
crumbled
as if made of loose sand. The hapless figure spilled across the ground, leaving nothing but a pile of dust to mark his passing.

The second Shade dropped down on one knee, clearly exhausted by his effort. Whether he was Nathan or Valac, Aurim could not say. The pair had moved about so much that it was impossible to even guess.

But who had triumphed did not long matter. Taking advantage of the winner’s exhaustion, the third Shade touched the top of the crystal—and suddenly his counterpart within twisted, turned. With a cry, he became as clay, folded together over and over until at last nothing, absolutely nothing, remained.

Aurim blanched. Yssa clung to him, her fingers digging painfully into the wizard’s arm.

Shade stretched his arms back. He shimmered, seemed to momentarily swell—then suddenly reverted back to what he had been.

“They are returned to me,” he uttered. “They are part of me again . . .”

Seizing the moment, Aurim took advantage of the distraction, casting a spell with which he intended to slay the warlock. Even if Shade’s curse resurrected him again, he would surely be much less of a threat than now.

“No, Aurim!” Yssa shook him hard, shattering his concentration. “Didn’t you notice before? You attack him and the attack comes back at you! Think!”

Aurim gasped for breath as the effort to disperse the energy he had summoned overwhelmed him. He remembered the horrific force that had struck him—the same spell he had been casting then. The wizard had nearly slain himself.

Shade laughed. “The work of the Storm Lord, I will admit, young Aurim. A so-clever god, wouldn’t you say? But too clever for himself, in the end.” The warlock touched the crystal and Aurim felt a sudden heat wash over him. “And that will end any other spells from you whatsoever.” He turned toward a passage to his left. In the voice that passed for the Storm Lord’s, he commanded, “Come!”

From the corridor rushed in several drake warriors, the servitor Ssssurak at their head.

“My lord,” he murmured, bowing low to Shade. “Forgive us! We waited for your summons—”

“We are not interested in your excuses,” the warlock replied. None of the drakes appeared to notice the gargantuan form to their side. In their eyes and ears, Shade was the Storm Dragon. “Secure them. I will deal with both at my leisure.”