Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  There was still no response from the Crystal Dragon. The Gryphon tried again, but still without success. All the while he tried also to follow the pattern of the spell that worked the harness.

  “Can you not free me?”

  “I should be able to, but it is going to take longer than I had hoped. I was supposed to have help.”

  Darkhorse did not pretend to comprehend the last statement, but he dipped his head in understanding to the first part. “I will do what I can, Lord Gryphon, from within. Perhaps with the two of us striking at it . . . at it, we shall have an easier time.”

  “I hope so.” The Gryphon stumbled. It was becoming more and more troublesome to maintain his footing.

  The shadow steed’s eyes closed and his head slumped. Had not Darkhorse given him some warning, the lionbird would have been dismayed. Darkhorse had entered what was the equivalent of a light trance in the hope that he might be able to assist in his own release. Working with renewed confidence, the inhuman mage began retracing the lines of the spell. Somewhere he had missed the beginning thread. Somewhere . . .

  He had it! The Gryphon used his magical senses to follow the thread. He saw how it wound around the collar of the harness and split off, but the new threads did not go to the bonds around Darkhorse’s legs. Rather, they returned to the beginning. He probed a bit further and found where they reconnected. The secret of the spell started to unravel before his eyes.

  Then, a thousand needles turned his nerves to jelly.

  The pain was almost enough to make him black out, but the Gryphon had fought against pain in the past. He fell to his knees, then would allow himself to fall no farther.

  From behind him, the lionbird finally heard the sound of boots on rock. This time, he was able to roll away before the weapon could strike him in the back. The roll became a crouch, albeit an unsteady one. Only then did the Gryphon realize that his sword was not with him. It now lay at the feet of his attacker, who he had not heard because of his intense study of the harness.

  I am getting old, he thought. But it looks as if I may not be getting much older!

  “I knew I’d find you around here. Even in the midst of all this chaos and danger, you’d come to aid a friend. How sweet.”

  Orril D’Marr drew circles in the air with his magical scepter, circles or perhaps bull’s-eyes, for the design centered around the Gryphon’s chest.

  “You can’t leave now. Time to finish things, birdman. Time to die. After all, your son is waiting for you.”

  XVII

  Cabe recalled being thrown aside when the Quel had burst from the ground. What he could not recall were the several seconds after that. Cabe only knew that he opened his eyes to the sight of a squalid whiteness. It took him several seconds more to discover that he had become entangled in a tent. The befuddled mage fought his way out of the canvas, then hurriedly looked all around him to see if he was in immediate danger.

  He was not. The battle had been carried away from where he was. The Quel who had surprised the duo was nowhere in sight.

  Neither was the Gryphon.

  Cabe began to suspect that he had been unconscious for more than a minute. He reached back behind his head, which proved to be a painful mistake, for the warlock made use of his injured arm. That led to another few seconds while he struggled to fight the new agony.

  I can do nothing about the arm, but I have dealt with your head injury.

  “Wha-?” Cabe started, then clamped his mouth shut. Why did you do it?

  There were actually two questions in that one. The voice, the Crystal Dragon, answered both. You struck your head on a piece of wood in the tent. The wound was severe enough that it demanded immediate treatment. I need you as whole as possible for what we musssst do.

  The Dragon King had chosen to aid him after all. It was not too surprising to the spellcaster, not when the Crystal Dragon’s own kingdom must certainly be threatened. Cabe was careful to avoid any comment or thought about the Crystal Dragon’s earlier reluctance. The warlock needed a solution and it appeared that only the lord of Legar had one.

  At least, he hoped that the Crystal Dragon had a solution.

  “But the Gryphon-”

  Isss on his way to free the demon steed. He knowsss what your tassssk is to be.

  My task? the warlock asked in silence.

  There issss only one force capable of driving the evil of Nimth back to where it belongsss! That isss the evil itssself! With the sphere and the Quel platform no more, there isss only one object with ties ssstrong enough to the cursssed sorcery of Nimth to be of ussse! We must have it!

  Only one object. Cabe could think of only one, but surely not that. “You don’t mean Lord D’Farany’s talisman?”

  The silence that greeted his question told him that the keeper talisman was exactly what the Crystal Dragon meant. The warlock shook his head. There had to be something else.

  There is nothing else! It mussst be the tooth!

  Cabe stood his ground. Even if I can find him in all of this, he’ll never willingly give me that thing!

  I shall do what I can to aid you. I promissse you, Cabe Bedlam, that if there were another way, I would take it! Thisss will either sssave all . . . or it will put an end to usss asss well!

  Not a statement evoking confidence, the spellcaster thought wryly. However, his link with the Dragon King was strong enough that he knew the other was not lying. The talisman was the only chance they had.

  First, though, Cabe had to find the tooth and take it from a sorcerer more than capable of killing him with it.

  He isss to your right at the far end of the camp. I will guide you, but you mussst hurry!

  Hurry he did, but not before he first recast the spell making him unnoticeable to those around him. It might or might not work in the midst of all this anarchy, but Cabe felt safer. An invisible shield would have protected him better, but he wanted to save himself for the confrontation with the Aramite commander. The peculiarities of sorcery demanded that while the power was drawn from without, the will and strength of the mage was often paramount to maintaining many of the spells. He did not pretend to understand it; Cabe only knew that those were the rules.

  Did a keeper have to abide by the same rules?

  His path was surprisingly clear of violence, despite all he heard and saw around him. There was still no way of knowing whether either force had gained the upper hand. A Quel died with three bolts in her neck; the Aramites were quick to learn the weaknesses of their much larger foes. However, the Quel were learning, too. Those that did not have weapons tore from the earth massive hunks of rock, which they threw with uncanny accuracy at their smaller, quicker opponents. Cabe came across one body whose face and upper torso were crushed beneath a rock probably as heavy as the warlock was. He had always been aware of the astonishing strength of the diggers, but this new reminder struck home.

  In some places, the threat was not from either side, but from the land itself. Crevices had opened up throughout the area and more were opening every minute. Cabe saw one man plummet to his death as the surface under him abruptly caved in. The warlock himself had to leap across growing ravines more than once. Only the Dragon King’s guidance kept him on his course.

  Then, amid the fighting armies and the trembling earth, Cabe saw Lord D’Farany. The keeper and three other raiders, all officers, were attempting to seize control of a number of horses penned up nearby, but were having limited success. Two animals were nearly saddled, but the other horses were too overwrought and fought the wolf raiders.

  D’Farany was mounting one of the two animals readied for flight.

  Cabe started to run. He wanted to be as close as possible before he attempted a spell in this chaos, but his time was limited. The Aramite commander looked more than ready to leave his men behind if they did not hurry. Evidently Lord D’Farany had decided that the Quel attack was too long of a delay to risk. Even if his men defeated the underdwellers, which was not a certainty, the time lost would
be too great. This entire region was heading for total collapse.

  In his anxiousness to cut the distance between the keeper and himself, the warlock did not watch his path closely enough.

  He tripped over something large and moving, falling face first into the inhospitable soil with a jarring crash.

  Groaning, Cabe looked up, fearful that the Aramite commander had already fled. What he saw was not the wolf raider, but rather a mouthful of jagged, yellowed teeth. The teeth were in the wide-open jaws of a monstrosity the size of a small dog, but more rodentlike in appearance. It had positively the ugliest countenance that the bruised mage had ever seen, and that included such creatures as the Quel or ogres. It looked hungry. Very, very hungry.

  He tried to roll aside as it leapt, but the horror twisted in the air, and as Cabe turned onto his back, it fell upon his chest. Cabe gasped as all the air went out of him. The warlock was barely able to get his hands up in time to keep the beast from his throat. It snapped at him and the foul breath was almost enough to kill him, teeth or no.

  His arm was in agony and a second snap by the thing added to the pain in the form of a shallow wound. He was able to push it back just enough so that the strong jaws could not keep hold. The viciousness of the beast was so astonishing that Cabe hardly had time to concentrate. Twice he failed and both times the monstrosity’s horrid maw moved a little closer to his throat.

  With a last desperate push, Cabe finally managed to put the ratlike beast at arm’s length. Ignoring the throbbing pain, the warlock glared at his catch.

  It squealed. Squealed in fear. He allowed himself a slight smile. It was nice to have something afraid of him for once. Despite its mournful squeal, however, he did not stay his course. The punishment had been chosen. The beast twisted and turned in his grip and as it did, it shrank. It shrank to the size of a rabbit, then a robbin redbreast, and then the rat it so resembled. Even that was not good enough. Cabe did not stop until his attacker was no larger than an acorn. At that point, he closed a fist around it and, stretching back his good arm, threw the vermin as far away as he could manage. The tiny beast vanished into the fog.

  Cabe turned back, fearful that he was too late, but he found that Lord D’Farany had not yet departed. In fact, the keeper was looking in his direction and not smiling in the least.

  The warlock searched his mind for the presence of the Crystal Dragon but could not reestablish the link. The Dragon King had seemingly abandoned him at the worst possible instant.

  D’Farany spurred his steed and guided the animal slowly toward his enemy. He made no attempt at a spell but the warlock sensed the power flowing about the wolf raider, power whose source lay in a pouch at the hip of the Aramite. Behind him came the three officers, one astride and two on foot. They, unlike their master, were armed and ready to kill.

  “You should be dead. Like I once was. But I came back to life and so have you. I think you must be, in your own way, as tenacious a foe as the Gryphon,” D’Farany remarked, the lipless smile just barely coming into play.

  “In some ways, more so. Is this raider loyalty I see before me? You weren’t long in abandoning your men, were you?”

  The officers took his slight as the final insult and moved to cut him down. Lord D’Farany raised a hand, halting them in midstride. “I do not abandon my men. I abandon wars that are lost and I have, in the past, abandoned sanity, but I do not abandon my men. I have the power to save them right here.” He patted the pouch. “And as long as I have it near, I can do anything.”

  The earth tried to swallow Cabe up. Literally. The ravine that opened had boulders for teeth and a sinuous, seeking column of clay that acted as a hunting tongue. Cabe had wondered if the keeper could control his power even when the talisman was not in his hands. Now he knew, although the coming of that new knowledge had almost been a second too late.

  Yet, the warlock had been expecting the worst and so he was ready. Cabe rose above the gaping mouth and beyond the searching tongue. He felt D’Farany work his power. The tongue, like an earthen snake, followed after him, growing to match whatever height the dark-haired mage dared.

  A violent wind turned Cabe’s flight into a spinning terror. He first thought it was the Aramite’s work until a chance glimpse showed that D’Farany, too, was having trouble controlling his sorcery. While the warlock was finding it nigh impossible to direct his flight, the wolf raiders were now having to do combat with the animated creation of their master. The column of clay darted in and out, first matching blows with the two officers on foot, then trying to seize either rider.

  Nimth was overwhelming all of them.

  Dragon King, where are you?

  I . . . sssspell . . . it will . . . The message in his mind was meaningless garbage. Cabe struggled to force his will upon the spell he had started. In a sense, he finally succeeded, for suddenly the startled mage was plummeting earthward.

  Cabe was unable to keep himself aloft, but in the last second, his will was strong enough to create a cushion of air, making his landing only a bit harsh. Lord D’Farany’s creation did not seize him when he touched ground, which he assumed meant that it still fought with the Aramites. That proved true enough. In fact, the serpentlike appendage had wrapped itself around one of the horses, throwing the officer riding the steed to the ground, and was even now dragging the poor creature kicking into its maw.

  Two soldiers pursued the trapped animal, but Lord D’Farany barked an order, causing them to backstep. Shrieking, the steed was pulled into the magical jaws. As the hapless mount disappeared from view, the mouth simply vanished. There was no sign of the ravine and no sign of the unfortunate beast.

  Seemingly satisfied, D’Farany then pointed at the third man, the one who had been thrown off the horse, and said something unintelligible that the warlock assumed was an order to see to the condition of the injured officer. The two remaining officers obeyed without hesitation.

  The keeper glanced in his direction. One hand went into the pouch where the talisman was kept. Lord D’Farany wanted a more direct control over his spells. The talisman was useful as a focus, but Cabe knew it was also a crutch of sorts to a sorcerer’s imagination. Those who relied on talismans concentrated too much sometimes on what was in front of them, for that was where their toys were focused. That meant that on occasion they left their other defenses weak.

  So he hoped.

  The warlock did not wait for his counterpart to retrieve the tooth. Quite suddenly, there were ten Cabes all about the area. Each one moved with purpose, but not the same purpose as his twins. Some stood where they were while others moved toward the keeper and his men.

  Among the latter was the true Cabe Bedlam, who now stood far to the right of his previous position. It was a risky spell, as all were in this place, but it had worked like perfection. The false Cabes moved their hands about in mystical passes that actually had no meaning. Creation and control of the illusions were actually not a great strain for him. They required much less power than true conjuration. Now he only had to hope that his adversary fell prey to it.

  D’Farany did pause, losing a precious second or two while he studied his multiplied opponent. Then he pulled free the talisman and pointed it at one of the farther images. Out of the corner of his eyes, Cabe watched the duplicate ripple, then fade away. He hurried his pace. Just a little closer . . .

  Swinging his arm around, the keeper brought the talisman to play on one image after another. His steed, made jittery by the madness around him, struggled with the Aramite, slowing D’Farany’s work another critical few seconds. The warlock edged closer, glancing now and then at the other raiders. The two officers were still bent over the third, who would not be rising soon, if at all, from the looks of him. Cabe did not fear the two remaining. Only their master was a danger.

  Then it was that Lord D’Farany’s deadly talisman was pointed directly at him . . . only to continue on until the keeper had fixed it on the illusionary Cabe to the warlock’s right.

 
The Aramite had assumed that one of the ten must be his adversary. He was wrong. Cabe walked among his duplicates, but to all eyes but his own, he was not there. Not unless they looked close. Cabe had relied on the tremors and his duplicates to draw attention from himself. Meanwhile, the same spell that had allowed him to enter the wolf raider encampment now allowed him to move toward the keeper. As long as D’Farany had other things to occupy his sight, he would not see the warlock. Of course, there were limitations. The nearer Cabe moved, the more chance there was that the Aramite sorcerer’s will would overcome the spell. Had he tried to actually reach Lord D’Farany and pull him from the saddle, it was likely that Cabe would have been attacked long before he was close enough to do anything. Fortunately, he had no intention of getting that close.

  At least, not at first.

  He reached his destination just before D’Farany, still battling his anxious steed, focused the talisman on the last of Cabe’s duplicates. The keeper was having trouble maintaining aim, which was what the warlock had hoped for. It gave him just enough time to prepare and then to unleash his own assault.

  The ground before the nervous stallion exploded in one bright, raucous burst after another. The bursts of light appeared all about the steed, growing noisier with each consecutive explosion. Already flighty, the stallion could take no more of the happenings around it. It bucked and reared, trying to escape the explosions.

  Lord D’Farany fought in vain to remain in the saddle. He first slid back, then fell forward as he tried to grab hold of the saddle with the hand not clutching the carved tooth. In the process of grasping, the keeper lost his hold on the reins.

  Not daring to pause, the warlock turned on the remaining pair of wolf raiders, who even now rose to aid their master. Cabe dealt with them in the simplest of manners, using a tiny portion of his skill to raise two heavy stones and fling them toward the duo. Neither man had a chance to deflect the oncoming projectiles. Helms or not, the stones struck with enough force to knock both officers senseless.