Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III (96 page)

Cabe tried to transport them away, but for some reason, his spell failed. He had no time to consider the reason. Cabe Bedlam now fully expected the blade to strike him and knew that, at long last, Duke Toma would have his death. The drake would not have thrown the knife if he had not been certain of the results. Cabe threw himself onto Valea and closed his eyes, wondering just what form his death would take. From a blade magicked by Toma, it would not be a painless one.

Valea gasped as she struck the floor. Cabe’s shoulder scraped against stone, but the pain was muted by the realization that he had suffered no other injury. No knife had sunk into his side.

Rolling onto his back, he discovered the sinister blade frozen in the air above him. From where it floated, the warlock estimated it would have struck him squarely in the back. The thought was an unsettling one even despite the knowledge that he had in some way escaped.

The reason for his survival stood gasping at the top of the dais. Grath, face covered in sweat, had one hand stretched toward the blade. From the look on his face, he was struggling with something. It slowly dawned on the warlock that Kyl’s brother was still battling the magical knife.

Kyl, furious, had taken a step toward Toma. “Ssso
thisss
isss an example of your
loyalty
! Ssso thisss isss a sssign of your
complete
obedience!”

Toma said nothing, but abruptly glanced at the dark blade.

The knife spun around and flew toward the top of the dais.

Kyl gasped and raised a hand to protect himself, but too late he realized that he was
not
the intended target.

Grath stared round-eyed as the blade sank deep into his chest, too stunned by the swiftness of what had happened to scream.

“Interfering little fool!” growled the renegade.

Bright orange flame enveloped the younger drake. Grath was outlined but a moment as he started to fall . . . then the knife pulled away and flew back to the claws of Toma, leaving the unfortunate drake a sprawled form on the dais.

“You . . .
murdered
. . . Grath!” Kyl, his eyes darting from the corpse of his brother to the knife nestled in the renegade’s hand, clenched his fists and took yet another wary step toward Toma. “I gave you sssanctuary! I
protected
you and thisss—”

Duke Toma gently wiped the blood from his blade. He eyed the heir and hissed. “No more
gamesss,
Your Majesty. Do you think that I do not know what you were planning? Have you forgotten how well I know all of you? I know how you think; I know how you plot. I saw your eyes when you ssspoke to the human. I read the truth in there.” Toma toyed with the knife. “I know just how secure my place with you would have been once
she
was safe in the care of the warlock.”

Cabe and Valea had risen, with the mage shielding his less-experienced daughter. Ursa joined them. Watching the duke, the warlock whispered, “Valea, get ready to transport the two of you away when I say to. We don’t dare do it until Toma’s fully occupied. Otherwise, he could easily pull you back.”

She looked astounded. “I’m
not
leaving you, Father!”

“We don’t have time to argue! He—”

“Hasss heard everything, Cabe Bedlam!” Duke Toma backed away from them all, the knife still at the ready. There was a strained look in his eyes and Cabe, who had already wondered about the renegade’s instability, knew that Toma had nearly reached the brink. He could no longer tolerate the slightest interference with his dreams. Grath’s death was proof of that, and now the duke had even turned on the one being who might have given him succor.

“Ssso much work for nothing . . .” muttered Toma. “So many
yearsss
wasted on raising an
unfit
hatchling for what should have been mine in the first place. I had my doubtsss time and time again, but the promissse was still there.”

Kyl worked to keep his own temper in check again. “Toma, if you sssurrender now, I will give you a jussst judgment.”

“A ‘just judgment’? With my
lissst
of crimes? I think not.”

It was now or never. Cabe leaned toward his daughter and whispered. “Leave! Now!”

She hesitated for a moment, but knew he was correct to send Ursa and her away. It was fast coming to the point where Toma would talk no more, and that left little other choice but battle. Valea was aware that she especially would be more hindrance against the drake than help. At least she could go for aid.

The only trouble was . . . she did
not
disappear. Neither did Ursa.

Toma ignored Kyl for the moment and smiled at the two humans from within his false helm. “Did you think I had not consssidered thisss eventuality? I am
Toma
!
I
led my father’s forces.
I
planned his campaigns! How sssimple, then, to consider the possibility that a wavering, would-be ruler would waver the wrong direction or that my foes might come to this very sssanctum! How simple, alssso, to plan ahead, come here, and leave a few sssurprises. You will not be leaving.”

Darkhorse!
Cabe called in his mind.
Darkhorse! I need you!

His silent cry could not go beyond the cavern walls.

“You are alone. Cut off,” Toma informed him needlessly.

“What do you hope to gain by this? You’ve lost everything already, Toma! Kyl’s offered you a fair judgment. It’s the best you can do now.”

“Not quite.” The renegade held up the knife. At first it appeared that he was going to throw it, but then Toma did a strange thing. He took the dark blade by the grip and replaced it in his belt. “There will be a terrible battle in here, yesss. Alas, only one will sssurvive. Toma will have killed the daughter of Cabe Bedlam, but the warlock and his arch foe will die together in a blaze of power that will leave few remains. Caught up in that sorcerous conflagration will also be the perhapsss not ssso trustworthy heir to the throne and the female called Ursa. Only one will sssurvive, a young lad who hasss alwaysss been more of a favorite to some of the Dragon Kingsss than his own brother.”

“What are you babbling about?” hissed Kyl. “What sssort of fanciful ssstory isss that? You have—”

The dragon heir swallowed the rest of his words as a horrific transformation took place. Toma melted, growing smaller. The massive dragonhelm crest shriveled to nothing and the helm itself pulled away. A handsome, almost
human
face took the place of the broad, flat visage of Toma.

Moments later, where the drake duke had been,
Grath
now stood. In every way, in every movement, Cabe would have sworn that it was Kyl’s brother and not the renegade.

“Did I do well, Master Bedlam?” asked Toma in Grath’s voice. An uncharacteristic sneer crossed the golden-green features. “I contemplated a masquerade like this in the beginning, but there were many reasonsss why the other path wasss better.” Toma/Grath tilted his head to one side and gave the others an innocent look. “Still, I think that I can easily fool those great drake lords. I have done so before. I’m sure that Lords Green or Blue will even give me sssanctuary when I tell them that I do not trussst my safety at the Manor. For obvious reasssons, of course.”

The knife gave him the power to create such a thorough masquerade. Cabe knew now that there
had
been a Benjin Traske at one time and that Toma had killed him as he had killed so many before. His present plan had merit, too, for none of the Dragon Kings, not even the Green Dragon, knew Grath well enough to see the difference. Toma had probably studied everyone of importance living in the Manor, all the better to know his enemies. The warlock was certain that, given the opportunity, Toma’s new form
would
fool the drakes. How the duke planned to rule through illusion for possibly the next few centuries, Cabe did not know. What he
did
know, however, was that if there was one creature capable of succeeding in such madness, it was Toma.

There was still one question, though. . . .

As if reading his mind, which for Toma might be possible, the false Grath added, “And surely you mussst be wondering how I plan to make all of thisss work.”

Toma blinked once. It was, to Cabe’s eyes, a very deliberate blink. Cabe felt a mild tug of the surrounding powers and recalled when the duke had earlier done the same thing.

A signal. He’s summoned someone . . . someone inside!

A peculiar, almost mournful howl echoed through the chamber from within the deeper parts of the cavern system. By the echo, whatever had made the cry was not far. A second wail indicated that it was drawing nearer at an incredible pace.

“What in the name of the Dragon of the Depthsss
isss
that?” whispered Kyl, so stunned he had temporarily forgotten his rage.

Toma/Grath smiled. It was a smile that told Cabe he should recognize the sound.

The warlock did. It was a cry that he had not heard since a day years ago when he and Gwendolyn had fought a frenzied Gold Dragon. It was the call of a monstrosity, a thing that should not have survived its time in the hatcheries of the drakes but somehow had. Only through a combined effort had it been defeated last time, to go fleeing deep into the vast underground system. Cabe had hoped that it had died there.

A misshapen form lumbered out of the tunnels and into the throne room of the Dragon Emperor. It caught sight of the warlock, and there and then Cabe knew that, as he had remembered it, so had the beast remembered
him.

The monster started toward him, jaws wide.

XXI

DARKHORSE PACED, AND
as he did, he eyed the two great dragons guarding the entrance into Kivan Grath. They returned his gaze with steady ones of their own. He knew that this pair would not be stared down, however much that would have been preferable to the other choice. If it came to battle, the eternal was certain that he would be victorious, but any combat would leave him even weaker than he was now. Darkhorse had not yet had the time to recover from his imprisonment; whatever his captors had done with him while he had been a victim of the box had sapped much of his strength.

He did not want to endanger his friends. Better he remain here and do nothing than become a detriment during a possible duel with foul Toma.

What made the situation more worrisome was the silence that greeted Darkhorse every time he attempted to reach Cabe. He was aware that the sanctum of the Dragon Emperor likely had spells that kept whatever was said within a secret, but both dragons had received commands from someone inside. That meant that it
was
possible to forge a link with Cabe. Certainly, his human friend had intended to send him word of the conditions of Toma’s captives. The warlock knew how much Darkhorse cared for his children; there
should
have been some word. He was certain of it.

Had there already been a battle? Had Cabe been prevented from summoning him?

Darkhorse ceased his pacing and turned to confront the two mammoth guardians. The dragons studied him with wary eyes.

He tried to look his most impressive. “I must know what is happening in there.”

Their responses were the same. Both dragons hissed and readied their claws. The eternal felt each guardian draw power in possible preparation of a magical assault.

Darkhorse gouged a ravine in the rocky soil beneath him. His pupilless eyes glittered. “Yes, I did not
think
you would like that statement.”

“You will have to passs
usss
to gain entrance, demon sssteed!” snarled the one Cabe had identified as Faras.

Sighing, the shadow steed started toward them at a trot. He tried to ignore the vast reservoirs of power the two behemoths were gathering. Between the two of them, they did have sufficient ability to end his existence. He told himself that he would just have to learn to ignore that particularly unsavory fact. Otherwise, thinking about it might be the death of him. “I still have hope that you
might
reconsider the necessity of that. . . .”

“
HALT
!”

At the sound of Duke Toma’s voice, the monstrosity paused. It looked, absurd as the image was, like a puppy that had just been forbidden its favorite chewing bone. As he was to have been that bone, Cabe appreciated the reprieve, but the warlock also knew very well that the drake had not protected him out of any sudden change of heart.

Duke Toma, again resembling himself, looked from the creature to his adversary. “I think he
remembers
you, Master Bedlam!”

“Father!” whispered a horrified Valea. “What
is
that?”

“Misfit . . .” muttered Ursa, breaking her silence. “Freak of nature . . . they usually don’t live this long. . . .”

It only remotely resembled a dragon. The thing was several times taller than a human, but that was in part because it stood on two legs instead of four. The tail that dragged for several yards behind was all that allowed it to balance. Even still, the monster teetered at times, in great part because its head was far too large for its body. Strange follicles almost resembling whiskers hung down from above its maw. Two spindly, almost useless arms waved back and forth in agitation.

It should have been dead. It should have died of starvation or
something
after Cabe and Gwen had forced it into the depths of the immense cavern system.
Trust
my
luck that not only did it survive, but
Toma
found it first!

The renegade was laughing, no doubt in part because of the expression that had crossed the warlock’s countenance when the beast had first started toward him.

“Yesss, I think you recognize each other. He isss more than a dumb beassst like a riding drake, human. He is very much like usss, a thinking—to a point, that is—creature. Doubt not that he recalls what you did to him and the one who gave him care and purposesss. Doubt not that he remembers well when you took his provider from him.”