Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (93 page)

How best to do this? Toma was making Cabe come to him. Despite Cabe’s intentions otherwise, the warlock was once more being played with by the renegade. Duke Toma had always excelled at manipulating others, but his game of the past several years had been his crowning achievement. Even now, he simply had to wait for his adversary to come to him.

Well, I
am
coming to you, you damned lizard and, believe me, you
will
regret that!

Cabe sent a probe toward the doorway, the obvious entrance into a place protected by sorcery, but he also sent out two more subtle probes to seek out the windows on the other side of Kyl’s bedchamber. He doubted that either the door or the windows would do him any good, but it was always a wise idea to investigate.

The probes finally informed him of what he had already assumed. None of the obvious entrances were available to him. There were spells crisscrossing them, spells whose intentions were to assure his immediate death. He could not fight both Toma and the traps the renegade had laid, not at the same time. That was far too much for even Cabe, with all his power, to concentrate on.

It became clear to Cabe that he could either stay here and hope that Toma would tire of waiting—or try to fight his way through the drake’s traps. Neither was a particularly attractive choice. He could not take long in deciding, either, for Valea’s life lay in the balance. Kyl did not likely want her killed, but Toma might. Whatever master plan the renegade had hatched all those years ago, when he had first donned the mask of Benjin Traske, had been shattered, likely by Aurim’s appearance in the library. Traske
had
seemed visibly startled. With Gwen having failed him, Toma now had to revise his moves.

Which did not mean that the drake had not already planned for this somehow.

He could not wait out Toma. Cabe
had
to assault the magically defended suite. He had to do it alone, too, for neither his wife nor Aurim were—

There was a sudden
tingling
in his mind. The tingling was followed by the intrusion of a familiar, albeit ever unique presence.
I am here, Cabe! Let me in!

Darkhorse! Enter freely! Come to the hall beyond Kyl’s suite! Quickly!

“What is it?” rumbled the eternal, suddenly beside him.

With the tension so great already, Cabe fairly jumped at the abrupt appearance of his old friend. He quickly scanned the shadow steed. Darkhorse did not look as powerful as he generally did. His presence was just a bit less imposing, as if not all of him was there. “Are you well enough? Can you help me?”

The eternal looked insulted. “
Can
I help you? I am Darkhorse, Cabe! I am your
friend
! To not help you, to do less than I am able . . .”

“Toma’s in there.”

That silenced the ebony stallion. The icy orbs that were his eyes narrowed. “
Is
he now?” Darkhorse started toward the door. “Then I think that we should
join
him . . . so that we may
tear
him apart!”

“Wait!” Cabe leapt in front of the eternal. “Listen! Toma is Benjin Traske. He used that identity to draw us to him. I think he has Valea and Grath in there, and I
know
that the doors, the windows . . .
everything
. . . are bespelled!”

“Bespelled against
you,
Cabe!” snorted the shadow steed. “I am Darkhorse! Move aside! I owe the renegade for much and I will see him pay now!”

Somehow, the hulking form of Darkhorse slipped around him. Cabe cursed, reminding himself for the thousandth time that what the eternal resembled was
not
what he was. It was too late by that time. Darkhorse was already at the doorway.

The massive black stallion rose on his hind legs and struck out with his hooves. The warlock felt a rush of sorcerous energy encompass the eternal. Cabe shielded himself, but nothing struck him. He heard Darkhorse laugh and knew then that his companion had absorbed the sorcery and was now mocking the one who had cast the spell.

“I am
coming
for you, bloody duke!” Darkhorse kicked the door again. It still stood, a testament to Toma’s own skills, but Cabe estimated that one, perhaps two more kicks would shatter it. He readied himself to enter the fray the moment the way was clear.

It took only one more kick. The door splintered, bits flying this way and that. Again, spells were unleashed. The wary sorcerer was amazed at the preparation his adversary had made. Once more, however, all the preparation went for naught, for Darkhorse absorbed all the power with only a slight glow to show that he had noticed the attacks at all.

The eternal did not wait. He charged into the suite. Cabe prayed that the Manor would be able to withstand all the damage. It would not do to have the ancient edifice come down around them just as they were about to capture Toma.

“What in the name of the Void?”
roared Darkhorse in absolute confusion.

Cabe, just entering, paused. He stared at what had so confounded the stallion, his heart sinking as he realized the latest ploy the duke had played on him.

Huddled together like frozen statues were Lady Belima and six of the household staff. They stared without seeing, but Cabe could at least tell that they were breathing.

“Look what hangs on their chests,” Darkhorse muttered.

Stepping forward, a demoralized Cabe saw that each person wore a simple loop necklace from which hung an object. Mistress Belima, a graying, busy-looking woman, wore a small dagger. Another woman wore a ribbon that resembled one worn often by Valea. The warlock studied the other items, finally muttering, “Those are personal items. Something from Valea, something from Kyl . . . something from everyone in Toma’s little group, including himself.”

“We have been
tricked
!”

He nodded. Darkhorse had the right of it. Toma had played the warlock as a master bard played his harp. Kyl, Grath, Ursa, Valea—they were all gone. Frustrated, the warlock stalked through the suite. He knew that the renegade had departed, but desperation made him hope that perhaps he was wrong. This had to end here and now, not drag on and on and on . . .

In one of the side rooms, the warlock made a grisly discovery. Whereas Mistress Belima and the others were simply under an enchantment, this poor soul had been murdered most horribly. He forced himself to walk up to the figure, whose features were frozen in a scream, and touch it.

“
Gods,
Ssarekai . . .” he whispered. “You, too. . . .”

Perhaps this murder had been the beginning of the end of Toma’s patient waiting. The drake servitor had not simply been frozen or made to forget again; he had been turned into
rock.
Solid rock. There was no bringing him back to life, not from this particular spell. The spark that had been the stable master’s essence was gone.

General Toos, the real Benjin Traske—if he had ever existed—and now Ssarekai. More names to add to Toma’s list. More things to condemn the duke, already many times condemned.

Cabe did not like to kill, but he knew that it was up to him to see to it that Toma caused no more deaths.

Cabe?
came a weak voice in his head.

Gwendolyn?

It was clear that she was still in no shape to help him.
Is it . . . is she . . . what’s happening?

The warlock sighed and told her. She relayed nothing back to him as he quickly described what had happened, but Cabe could sense her growing despair.

When he was finished, she asked,
Valea? He still has Valea and we don’t know where he is now?

Cabe started to shake his head, recalled that his wife would not be able to see him do so, then suddenly paused before answering her.

Perhaps he
did
know where Toma had gone. Considering the renegade’s past, considering his companions and his manner, it seemed to the warlock that there was only one place that the duke
could
go. Toma’s arrogance would permit him to go no place else.

“I know where he has to be,” he said out loud.

“Where is
that
?” asked Darkhorse, trotting into the room. The shadow steed’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he noticed what remained of poor Ssarekai. The stable master, after getting over the typical drake’s fear of the eternal, had pleased Darkhorse to no end with his constant compliments concerning the stallion’s magnificent appearance.

In his head, the enchantress echoed the eternal’s question.

Cabe’s hands balled up into fists as he thought of the place. It was appropriate, for it had been, in a sense, the birthplace of Cabe Bedlam, master sorcerer. From there, the harbingers of fate, in the form of Dragon Kings, had gone out to seek an unsuspecting young man.

“We have to go to Kivan Grath.”

XX

ALTHOUGH THE WIND
and cold could not touch him, Cabe Bedlam nonetheless felt a chill as he stood on a ledge high atop one of the smaller peaks of the Tyber Mountains. In the distance, Kivan Grath stood above all else. Somewhere within, the warlock knew, Toma and the others waited. The spells that now enshrouded the citadel of the Dragon Emperor made it impossible to locate those inside. They also made it impossible for Cabe and Darkhorse to simply materialize there.

“We are not alone,” remarked Darkhorse. The shadow steed had insisted on joining him in this confrontation and, despite Cabe’s awareness of the fact that the eternal was not entirely well, the warlock had been unable to turn down his offer.

Cabe nodded. Besides the creatures who inhabited the Tybers, he could sense two other forms in the direction of Kivan Grath. Two monstrous forms.
Dragons.

“Are you ready?” he asked the eternal.

Darkhorse chuckled and kicked the edge of the ledge. A portion of it broke off and tumbled down to the valley below. “Of course!”

“Then let’s see what Toma has waiting for us. You know what I want of you?”

The ice-blue orbs flashed. “I will watch for Valea; you may rest assured on that, Cabe. I will take her from this place and bring her safely back to the Manor. Grath, too?”

“Please. It’s not his fault Kyl is allied with Toma.”

“I wonder. The young drake is clever; I find it amazing that he could be so ignorant of his brother’s doings.”

Cabe tried to fix on the two hulking figures he could sense near the mouth of the Dragon Emperor’s sanctum. They were most definitely keeping guard. He sighed. “Follow my lead.”

“As you say.”

With a thought, the warlock sent the two of them forward. They materialized only a short distance from the very mouth of the cavern, but still far enough so that its two immense guardians were not on top of them.

Even still, the sight of the two dragons
was
an impressive one.

Green they were, but mixed within was a trace of gold that made them glitter a little even in the cloud-enshrouded Tybers. Their wings, presently folded, looked to have a span at least equal to the length of their bodies. They were a pair of the largest dragons that Cabe could recall encountering, and he had encountered some of the greatest. Each drake guarded one side of the massive doorway. The warlock glanced between them and noticed that someone had repaired the entrance but recently.

“Come no farther, Master Bedlam!” rumbled the dragon on his left.

“Faras?” the warlock asked, slightly disoriented. The two leviathans were almost identical in appearance, but something in the first one’s voice reminded him of the drake.

“You have not been given leave to enter,” hissed the other.

“Ssgayn.” Cabe nodded to each of them. He had never seen the two drakes in dragon form, not since they were hatchlings. In truth, it was almost as surprising that they could actually shift to such shapes, not having practiced it . . . or had they? “You know why I’m here.”

Faras dipped his huge head. His teeth were jagged spikes as long as the human’s arms. Ssgayn’s were no less impressive. Even for dragons, these two were giants. “Duke Toma hasss given us strict ordersss.”

“Duke Toma? Is he emperor now?”

The dragons snapped their heads back in discomfort. Faras hissed, “Duke Toma
ssspeaks
for the emperor!”

“Does he?” The warlock’s eyes darted over the forms of the two dragons. He had seen almost all he needed to see. Faras and Ssgayn were not as comfortable in their present shapes as they would have liked. Their movements were slightly awkward, as if they understood the functions of their bodies but had not had enough practice. Still, knowing dragons as well as he did, Cabe did not doubt that they would be swift and deadly foes.

“So Toma speaks for Kyl now. Does Kyl know that?”

Ssgayn hissed. “You would be wissse not to mock, Master Bedlam.”

“Let me through, Ssgayn. I want my daughter.”

“We cannot. We have been charged to protect thisss entrance from all intrudersss. We mussst obey.”

They would, too. It saddened Cabe, because, knowing the two as he did, the warlock understood that Faras and Ssgayn truly saw this as their duty.

“I’ll have to enter. I won’t be kept from Valea.”

The two dragons simultaneously raised their heads. Ssgayn opened wide his maw while Faras simply replied, “Then you mussst pass
usss
first, Massster Bedlam!” The dragon lowered his eyes. “I
am
sssorry.”

Cabe started to raise his hand toward Ssgayn when the green-and-gold leviathan called out, “Wait!”

The warlock paused, but did not lower his hand. “Why?”

Both guardians had distant looks in their eyes. Cabe Bedlam recognized that look; someone was speaking to them through their minds. He glanced at Darkhorse, who dipped his head in understanding. They would wait for the dragons to listen, but no longer.

Faras was still listening inwardly when Ssgayn finally returned his attention to the warlock. “Fortune sssmiles upon us all, Massster Bedlam.” The massive dragon almost sounded relieved. “You have been granted entrance.”