Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (92 page)

“
Benjin
. . . he’s the key . . . Traske with a ‘T’ . . . that’s how I remember it. ‘T’ also stands . . .”

“Son . . .”

The other waved him silent. “The spell didn’t . . . didn’t set right. Not this time. Traske with a ‘T’ . . .” Aurim suddenly looked up. A smile slowly grew. At last, he met his father’s gaze. This time, the haunted look had been replaced by one of weary triumph. “Father! Benjin Traske—”

“How is he doing?”

Startled, they both looked up to see Gwendolyn standing by the door. Cabe had not noticed her materialize, and he was certain that neither had their son.

Aurim was pleased to see her. “Mother! I was just about to tell Father! I remember! I think he must have not known that I’d worked on destroying the original spell. When he tried to cast it again, he only turned it into something even
more
haphazard.”

The warlock turned his back on his wife. Something that Aurim had just said had struck him almost dumb. “Aurim! Did you say that it was cast
again
?”

“Yes! Listen! He’s been here all the time, laughing at us! Father,
Benjin Traske is Duke Toma!
”

He stared at his son, unable to make sense out of the pronouncement. Benjin Traske . . .
Toma
? “Aurim, you can’t mean that, can you?”

His son grabbed him by the arms. “Father, we have to act! He’s taken Ursa and I think he must have Valea!”

It was still inconceivable. “But we just left Traske at the library, Aurim!”

“I know, but it wasn’t quite clear to me, then. I only knew that I had to get away from him! I—” Aurim looked past him to his mother. Cabe saw his eyes widen.

If I may have but a word with your wife . . .

“Look out!”
shouted the young spellcaster. One arm thrust forward in a defensive maneuver as Cabe was suddenly thrown to the side.

The room was suddenly aglow with emerald green flame. Intense heat buffeted Cabe, but he knew that it should have been far worse. The spell should have killed him instantly, killed him and Aurim, too.

At the hands of Gwen.

Cabe rolled over just enough so that he could see what was happening. Before him, the doorframe outlining her, stood the scarlet-and-emerald enchantress. Her hands were outstretched, and even behind the magical shield that Aurim had managed to just barely create, the master warlock could sense the incredible river of power being thrust at them.

Gwendolyn’s face was still indifferent, almost blank. How long had she been under Traske’s . . .
Toma’s
cursed spell? Not for very long, but definitely before the disguised renegade had entered the library. Traske had been surprised to see Aurim there, too, which meant that he had thought that he had already dealt with Cabe’s son.

The library had been a trap, one set to snare him in particular. Had Aurim not been with him, Cabe would have gone there alone to talk with his wife. Toma would have no doubt entered when he had anyway, thus giving the warlock too little time to realize what was wrong with his mate. Then, with Cabe unsuspecting, the renegade would have struck from both sides.

He would have made Gwen Cabe’s murderer.

Cabe held his anger in check, realizing that the situation now required thought, not emotion. Aurim’s shield was still holding, but he did not have the experience to keep pace with his mother. Fortunately, it appeared as if the witch did not have the full use of her senses, else she would have gotten around her son’s defenses by now.

The warlock added his own power to the shield. Toma had expected the enchanted sorceress to catch both her son and her husband off guard. Under his spell, she was only a puppet, which meant that the knowledge and cunning of Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam was almost completely lost.

Engrossed as he was in trying to understand what had become of his wife, he barely sensed the black tentacles coming from behind him.

They darted toward him, but the warlock had already shifted position, materializing just a foot or two out of the way. The tentacles struck the floor, then immediately sought him again.

Evidently not
all
of her cunning was lost. The mage cast his own spell, severing the tentacles from their source. The magical extremities dropped to the floor and wiggled around once or twice before they dissipated.

“Father! How do we fight her? I
can’t
hurt her!”

There lay the gist of their problem—and Toma’s final ploy. Gwendolyn would continue trying to kill them unless they defeated her, but doing so might cause her injury, or worse,
death.
For the renegade, that would be as great a victory as it would be if she succeeded in her mission.

I swear that you’ll pay for all of this somehow, Toma!
It was so easy to swear oaths, though. Fulfilling them, however, was another matter, one which would first require a resolution to the situation at hand.

The ensorcelled Gwendolyn chose that moment to look at the ceiling. Cabe did not understand until the room began to shake.

“The ceiling! Aurim! You take care of it! I’ll watch her!”

It was possible that a look of relief and gratitude crossed his son’s countenance, but things were moving too swiftly to take the time to be certain.
At least he won’t have to worry about harming his mother.

Aurim also looked up. The shaking slowed, but did not cease. Out of the corner of his eye, Cabe saw the younger warlock squeeze his fists tightly together in an attempt to force his will on the weakening ceiling.

The quake became imperceptible.

That left Cabe to deal with his wife. He dared not attempt a direct attack. As desperate as his own predicament was, to harm her was out of the question. Knowing that she would probably die at Toma’s hand if he
did
sacrifice himself did not make things easier.

Part of Gwen had to be in there. It was the only way by which the drake could make some use of her skills. Otherwise, she would have been no more than a statue. For Toma to twist her to his bidding, he would have had to keep a flicker of her soul awake. All Cabe had to do was find something that would shock her enough to weaken the spell holding her in thrall.

The deaths of her husband and son would do that, but faking such a scene would require too much concentration. It would leave the shield weakened, something that his bride, even in her present state, would be unable to miss.

The true deaths of her husband and son
would
awaken her.

He needed something else, but it had to be something stunning or a fear or even possibly—

A fear?
Cabe knew of one. It was a fear so powerful that as hard as she had tried in the past to hide it from him, he had noticed the tension, the shaking, time after time.

It would have to be that. The warlock gritted his teeth and whispered to his wife, “I’m sorry for this, Gwen. Another thing that Toma owes us for.”

It was easy in one sense. All Cabe had to do was picture the enchantress as he had first discovered her.

A golden glow materialized around the sorceress. She did not pay it any heed at first, focused as she was by Toma’s command on the process of trying to kill her family. Then, as the glow condensed, took form, a slight look of uncertainty flashed across the otherwise emotionless face.

Beside him, Aurim tried to watch while maintaining his counterspell on the ceiling.

Cabe continued to solidify the glow. It now had a rocky, translucent look to it. He knew that what he was creating was an illusion, but he doubted that Gwendolyn’s mind in its present state would be able to make the distinction.

The Lady of the Amber.
That was the name by which she had been known in legend. The story of her imprisonment by Azran had become folk legend. Azran had worked his spell well and only Cabe had somehow managed to shatter it. Perhaps it had been because he was of the mad mage’s bloodline. Whatever the reason, release her Cabe had. Yet, the memory of her imprisonment remained rooted in her mind, haunting her dreams on occasion and filling her with a dread whenever she saw even a small piece of the substance. She feared being entombed again, and while that was not likely to happen, it was impossible to rid Gwendolyn of that dread. The amber prison had become a demon to her. It was why she insisted that no one, without exception, use the title in her presence.

Gwen’s eyes abruptly rounded. Her face twisted from disinterest to outright horror.

She screamed as Cabe had never heard her scream.

Her spells died at the moment of her cry, much to Cabe’s relief. Aurim, groaning, slumped onto the bed, but the warlock could see that his son was merely exhausted. This was the first time the younger Bedlam had been forced to use his power on such a level. Practice would make it easier.

Still his wife screamed, but Cabe could not stop now. She was not yet free of Toma’s control. Only when her mind was completely her own could he dare cease his attack. The sorcerer only prayed that she did not lose her mind in the process of recovering it.

At last, the enchantress ceased screaming and dropped to her knees. She began to cry. Cabe heard his name and those of his children amidst her sobs. Immediately, he dismissed the illusion of the amber prison and rushed to her side.

“Gwendolyn!” Cabe put his arms around her.

The distraught woman gradually looked up. “Cabe?”

He held her close. “It’s all right. The amber wasn’t real. I had to do it to break you out of Toma’s spell.”

“Toma? I don’t . . . I don’t
think
I remember. . . .”

Of course she would not, the warlock realized. His wife had never actually seen Toma. “Gwen . . . Traske came to you, didn’t he?”

It was clear that, as with Aurim, it was an effort for her to think. “Yes . . . he did. I don’t recall what he . . . what he wanted to talk about, but . . .”

“Gwen . . . Traske
is
Toma. He may have always
been
Toma.”

Cabe felt her body grow perfectly still. For a brief moment, he began to fear that she had slipped back into panic, but then she spoke. Her voice was steady but filled with growing hatred. “All this time we’ve cared for a
viper
in our midst? All this time he’s walked among us, laughing inside?”

“I don’t know if he’s always been Traske, but he has been for some time, I think.”

“Rheena!” The oath was one that the disheveled enchantress used rarely these days, which to Cabe revealed just how horrified his wife felt. “He would have made me kill . . . kill . . .”

Cabe silenced her. “He
didn’t.
He failed.”

“But not for my lack of trying. . . .”

He dared not let her collapse now. “You’re not to blame! Toma’s to blame!” Cabe made her look him in the eye. “He’s still
here,
Gwendolyn. He’s still here and he may have Valea.”

“Valea!” The enchantress tried to rise, but her legs would not support her. Toma’s spell and Cabe’s illusion had combined to drain her completely, both emotionally and physically. “We . . . we have to save her!”

“You’ll do nothing but rest here.”

“I
can’t
leave my daughter to that demon!” Straining, the weary sorceress tried to rise again. This time, she almost fell over.

Cabe helped her to the bed, where he put her down next to Aurim. His son sat up. Aurim’s face was drawn.

“I’ll go with you.”

The master warlock shook his head. “No, you stay with your mother. This is something that requires gradual recovery and we can’t leave her defenseless.
I’ll
take care of Toma.”

Aurim wanted to argue, but he knew better. He frowned, however. “Father, I think Toma must also have Ursa. She was in this room, helping me with the spell, when Tra—
Toma
came.”

Another hostage. Another life to worry about. Toma, however, was not one to indiscriminately take hostages, which meant that he would hesitate before doing something to them. Cabe knew that at the very least the renegade had Valea in order to confound him, and Ursa had probably been taken because of her bloodline. Grath? He was the one that the warlock worried about most. Kyl was no doubt allied with Toma, but did the heir need his brother? Did he really care that much for Grath?

Maybe it would’ve been better if your assassins
had
managed to kill him, Lord Green!
If Kyl
was
Toma’s ally, then he would pay along with the renegade duke, emperor or not.

Although only a few minutes had elapsed since the beginning of his battle with his ensorcelled wife, Cabe knew that he had delayed too long already. Leaning over quickly, he kissed the worn enchantress and patted his son on the shoulder. “I have to go. I have to get Valea.”

“You’ll need help,” insisted Gwen, trying to rise again.

Cabe briefly looked away, his gaze drifting to empty air. After a moment, he turned back to his family. “I’ll get it. Don’t worry. Toma
has
to be stopped.”

“Good—” the witch began, but Cabe was already gone.

HE HAD NO
doubt where they would be. Cabe Bedlam had been able to sense the renegade and the others all the time he had been in his son’s chambers. Toma, Valea, Kyl, Grath, and at least three others occupied the chambers set aside for the heir, his brother, and their bodyguards.

The odds were very much against him; the warlock was aware of that. Yet Cabe was concerned only about Toma. The others would be more hindrance to themselves. Kyl was possibly a threat, if Cabe was correct in his assumption. Toma, however, would have his hands full keeping Valea, Ursa, and likely Grath under control. The drake duke would insist on doing so himself. Toma trusted no one enough, not even his supposed emperor.

He materialized just a few feet from the royal chambers. The spell that prevented magical intrusion was still in place, another reason why Toma would have chosen these rooms rather than his own. The drake had dared not place such a spell on his own suite, for someone would have noticed and questioned why a tutor needed such safeguards.