“Let the council convene.” His words were softly spoken, but in the huge, still cavern they were thunder.
The forms of the riders suddenly became twisted, grotesque. They grew, and as they did their bodies became quicksilver. All semblance to humanity quickly faded. From their backs burst wings-long, webbed wings-and below those, serpentine tails sprouted. Arms and legs became clawed, leathery appendages. Already each figure was many times larger than it had been, yet the growth did not slow.
The cloaks had all been thrown aside at the moment of transformation, briefly revealing to the shadows a band of tall, dread warriors, dragonhelmed knights clad in scale armor. That image quickly gave way, however, as helms and near-hidden features melded together into monstrous, reptilian visages with long, horrid snouts and toothy maws. The scaled armor became scaled hides of colors that varied from figure to figure. There were blue, red, black, green, and at least a pair more gray than anything else. Other differences were obvious, but none more than the colors.
Where but moments before the riders had been, now the Dragon Kings stood.
The dragons stretched their vast wings and eyed one another with deep-rooted suspicion. They remained in pairs as they had since the beginning of this trek, one beast in each duo obviously dominant over the other. The lesser drakes backed up a few paces, acknowledging their lower status. One or two did this with great reluctance.
From the ranks of the dominant leviathans, a dragon of the darkest black, a sly creature with a savage scar across his throat, sneered at his emerald-green counterpart, who stood in the center. When the black dragon spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. Each word seemed a torture for the ebony creature.
“I am sssurprised that you even asked us to join together, Brother Grrreeeen! It isss not asss if you could not do asss you pleased in thisss matter!”
“We are inclined to similar notions,” added a gray, preening drake, whose very tone made it clear that the “we” of his statement concerned him alone and not his companion. He plucked fastidiously at his hide, as if seeking something. In the past decade, as his interests had turned ever inward, the Dragon King Storm had begun to take on the airs of a would-be demigod. Among his brethren was a growing suspicion that he was going mad, a not uncommon affliction of drake lords. Yet, any who might have thought him a foolish sight need only listen for the iron in his voice to know that this was not a creature to be crossed. The Storm Dragon might be mad, but he was also one of the most deadly of those drake lords who remained.
The Green Dragon, master of the vast lands of the Dagora Forest, eyed them both. “I have always abided by the traditions.”
“Enough of this bickering!” snapped their blue counterpart. His breath smelled heavily of fish, which made the black one wrinkle his snout in disgust. “We have matters to discuss which have been delayed all too long!”
Reminded of their duty, the others quieted. Green nodded his gratitude to the Blue Dragon, lord of Irrilian by the Sea, and, with a withering glance at his ebony counterpart, returned to his self-chosen role of speaker. “As Brother Blue so succinctly put it, we have delayed much too long in discussing this particular matter . . . years too long.” He surveyed the group, its prominent members strikingly fewer than when last they had convened. “I refer, of courssse, to the ascension to the throne of the next Dragon Emperor.”
Among his fellows there was some shuffling and discomfort. None of them had looked forward to this day, if only because they were uncertain as to what it meant to their kind. To some, it was an opportunity to reclaim past glory; to others, it was a final turning point. In the back of all their minds was the fear that it was all for nothing: a mere joke.
Once, it would have not been so. Once, the lands known both separately and collectively as the Dragonrealm had trembled under the iron rule of the drake race. Thirteen kingdoms and thirteen kings, with the line of Gold serving as emperor over all. So it had been for centuries, with new Dragon Kings replacing their progenitors either through the process of age or, more often, through subterfuge and deceit. A drake who became king relinquished his own name and became known by the symbol his clans had chosen so long ago in the lost past. Most were colors, said to represent the various shades of the magical spectrum. A few had gone by the strongest or most regal of the metals, such as iron or silver. One clan had even chosen the violence of nature’s storms as its symbol.
The shape-shifting drakes were only the latest in a long procession of rulers who had risen to supremacy . . . and then had fallen. A few scattered remnants of some of their predecessors still existed, but most of the land’s previous tyrants had faded with the lengthy passage of history. It now appeared as if the dragon folk themselves were headed into oblivion . . . and all here knew the reason why.
Mankind. Weak, clawless creatures, their race yet prospered. The Dragon Kings knew that they themselves were to blame for much of that progress and expansion. Humans had proven so useful in many ways, more than making up for the drakes’ own lack of numbers. In time, their inventiveness and drive had made them indispensable to most of the Dragon Kings. Human cities had sprouted up and grown, their inhabitants loyal at first to their respective masters. But it was inevitable that as their own power grew, the new kingdoms chafed at the rule of monsters. Rebellions rose and were suppressed. Human kingdoms then grew subservient for a time, but when a new generation came into power, the cycle would often repeat itself.
Then came the sorcerers.
The Dragon Masters.
Human mages had always existed, and many had found their way into the services of the Dragon Kings. A few had desired to cause havoc, but ever the drake lords had kept a wary eye out for the strongest, the ones with the most potential for destruction. These were either recruited or destroyed. Some sorcerers, however, succeeded in remaining hidden from the drakes. They gathered others to them and bided their time, their only attacks being to undermine the foundation of drake rule. The Dragon Kings began to suffer a number of mishaps, small by themselves, but cumulative in effect. Despite the many mishaps, however, they did not realize what was happening. Only after many generations, when the mages decided the time was ripe for revolution and at last revealed themselves for what they were, did the draconian rulers realize the instability of their reign.
Thus began the Turning War. For nearly five years the battle was fought. For nearly five years the Dragon Kings lived in fear that they were at last to fall.
The Dragon Masters, though, had also underestimated a number of things, first and foremost the treachery of one of their number. Serving his own purpose, the traitor had killed several of the most prominent mages in the ranks, then fled before their leader, his father, could deal with him. Weakened, the sorcerers were finally defeated; but the victory was bittersweet, for in one of the final struggles, the drake lords had lost one of their own. Lord Purple, who had guided them in the actual fighting, died with the Dragon Master Nathan Bedlam. Both Purple’s kingdom and the secrets of his great sorcery fell into the claws of the Gryphon, ally to the Dragon Masters. Weakened as they were, the other Dragon Kings could not oust him.
Those gathered now had long ago come to realize that the victory they had garnered in the war had been only a temporary reprieve. They had won themselves two centuries of anxiety and suspicion. When all was said and done, the empire had still crumbled. Infighting and misjudgment had done what the Dragon Masters could not.
For some time, the remaining Dragon Kings eyed one another. Then, at last, the ruined voice of the Black Dragon, he who controlled the domain of the Gray Mists, broke the uneasy silence. “Of what need have we of an emperor . . . essspecially one raised by humanssss?”
“More to the point,” interjected a dusky green drake with touches of brown along his underside, “a Dragon Emperor raisssed by the grandssson of Nathan Bedlam!”
The dragon’s name was Sssaleese. Some of the others looked at the new speaker, open disdain on their reptilian countenances. In their e
yes, this one was not a true Dragon King but a usurper, a pretender using the devastation of the drake race to his benefit. No birth markings had decorated his egg, of that they were certain. Yet, because he spoke for a loose confederation of clan survivors who had lost their own lords, it had been decided by the majority that his presence was required if this was to succeed.
Black had not been a part of that majority. The ebony drake sneered at the other and started to speak, but Green, recognizing the potential danger of those words, quickly replied, “Worthy comments both, but it would be well for all to remember that it wasss our rivalries and divisionsss which brought us to our present sssorry state.”
That drew the attention away from Sssaleese, but kindled a new disruption. Storm, the gray, looked mildly amused. “As we recall, the dissension was a part of life before the death of Gold.”
“Gold wasss Gold. Kyl, his heir, will be Gold in title only. He will ssstill be Kyl.” Green’s gaze swept across the cavern. “In that there isss all the difference! If we but give him our allegiance, our cooperation, then will we have what we desssire!”
“I ask again,” Black hissed. “What need have we of an emperor?”
Green shook his massive head. To the side, he heard Blue hiss in frustration. Blue understood what some of the others did not. The drake race was on the brink. If they did not come together soon, they faced extinction. The humans outbred them and now had clawholds everywhere. Green firmly believed that the tiny mammals now had the strength to annihilate his kind, and there were more than a few of the creatures who desired just that. Melicard I of Talak, whose father had been driven mad by the drake Kyrg, had already tried genocide. Worse, it appeared that the king of Zuu, Lanith, was massing an army and gathering what human mages of skill he could find. No one knew what he planned, but Zuu was a particularly disturbing point since it lay in the boundaries of the emerald giant’s domain. Lanith still gave his respects to Green, but grew ever more lax in responding to questions concerning Zuu’s increase in military strength.
“We need an emperor to give our kind focusss,” Blue returned, speaking in a manner one might use more for a child. “We need an emperor to show the humans that we are one, not many!”
“Yet you would give usss an emperor raisssed by humansss,” reminded Sssaleese, eyes darting to Black, who remained silent. “How could we trussst one raisssed by a Bedlam?”
“Raised by human and drake.” Green shook his head. “You sssee the disadvantages but not the advantagesss!”
“Could we not . . . ssspeak with him firssst?” an almost tentative voice asked.
The assembled drakes turned as one to the blood-red figure on the edge of the inner group. Although a Dragon King, Red was fairly new into his reign, a mere two decades or so. He had achieved his place upon the death of his progenitor on the sword of yet another Bedlam, Nathan’s mad son Azran. Unprepared, he had never found his proper place among his fellows. Even Sssaleese, who had clawed his way to his position, was more comfortable in the role of ruler.
“Ssspeak to him?” repeated the Green Dragon.
“Yesss . . .” Storm nodded. “We have only your word asss to his worth.” The gray behemoth met Green’s eyes. “We would be happier in thisss instance if we knew that the emperor-to-be isss worthy of the august title.”
“A notable suggestion,” agreed Blue.
Sssaleese added, “I would be interesssted alssso in the opportunity to make a judgment.”
Black merely nodded curtly. Red basked in the afterglow of his success and thus missed the look the Green Dragon briefly sent his way.
“Very well,” the emerald beast muttered. “I shall sssee to arranging sssuch a talk.”
“The Bedlamsss will never agree to it!” gasped the Black Dragon.
“Wait and sssee! I shall do what I can.” A pause, then, “And if the heir meetsss your questionsss? Then will you acknowledge his rightful place?”
The others acquiesced one by one with Black, of course, last.
“Ssso, then. The matter is settled. That leavesss but the details. . . .”
A short time later, the Dragon Kings departed through the broken bronze gate. In silence the band took charge of their steeds, mounted, and quickly left behind what had once been and might yet again be the Dragon Emperor’s stronghold. They rode together through the mountains, but when the Tybers gave way to more open land, the band quickly split into pairs. Some headed in an easterly direction, others more south. Only one pair headed directly west. Sssaleese and his second.
The would-be Dragon King and his companion rode hard for more than a quarter hour, never looking back once. They rode hard until they came upon a small range of hills, in truth a stunted outreach of the Tyber Mountains. Slowing their mounts, the two drakes entered the hills by one of the narrow paths that wound through the range.
When they were well within the protection of the hills, Sssaleese turned and glanced at his companion. The other drake, as nondescript a warrior as one of his kind could be, nodded. Both reined in their steeds. Only one moon was out this night, so Sssaleese could make out little more than the outline of the other, but he was certain that his companion was pleased. The confederation lord was not so certain that he shared that pleasure.
“You are sssatisssfied with what you have learned?”
“I am. They have not changed! They blunder around, each trying to take what he can without giving up anything! My sssire never trusted them! It wasss their fighting, their betrayal, that destroyed him! Now they ssseek to make the new emperor a puppet who will dance to their tune!”
Sssaleese did not respond at first. His situation was precarious, to say the least. He needed to be on fair terms with the Dragon Kings, yet there was much potential in taking a different course, especially if it meant the favor of the one who soon would sit upon the dragon throne.
Or stand behind it, he added. If the offer his companion had made him some months back held any truth, then the true lord of the drakes now sat in front of Sssaleese. “What will you do?”
The other considered. “The meeting will be a formality. They will find my brother a sssuitable candidate. All things may proceed as I planned.” The drake leaned toward Sssaleese. “Or do you have any misssgivingsss?”
The brown and green grew indignant. “We have made an agreement!”
“Yesss . . . one which allows both of usss much room for plotting our essscapes.” Sssaleese’s companion chuckled. “They did not recognize me! They never recognize me!”
“For which I am thankful! If they had known it wasss you, my life as well would have been forfeit.”
“Bah! You place too much confidence in their ssstrength. They are blussster!”
Sssaleese did not desire to pursue the conversation further. He had been subjected to his companion’s tirades before. What counted to him were results, not words. So far, there had been little of the former. Yet, before he dared depart, he once more had to ask one particular question. “How do you propose to make the young heir yours?”
Once more he received the same cursed answer. “He will be.”
There was no reply to that. Sssaleese shrugged. “I mussst return to my people. When shall we next meet?”
“I will contact you.”
Being at the beck and call of this one irked the new monarch, who felt that he should be given some respect for the position he had worked so hard to attain. Yet he was not about to push. This was one drake he did not care to cross. “Very well.”
Sssaleese turned his mount, intending to depart, when the other said, “We are kindred sssouls, friend. It isss usss against them! Their day is waning. We are the future, a place where the lack of proper birth markingsss does not mean one isss not fit to rule. . . .”
Sssaleese twisted around. “Let usss hope so, Duke Toma.”
Toma laughed, a harsh sound that echoed in the quiet night, and confidently replied, “Hope has nothing to do with it, dear Sssaleese! I should know!”
&
nbsp; II
“They must be mad!”
“I assure you, Cabe Bedlam, that they are very ssserious about thisss! They may not accept him otherwissse.”
Cabe Bedlam stalked to the rail of the balcony and gazed down at the massive sculpted garden below. The Green Dragon, wearing the form of a tall, emerald knight in scale armor, remained where he was, red, inhuman eyes watching the master sorcerer from within the confines of a helm. The dragon crest-part of the drake’s true visage-seemed also to watch. The drake lord kept a respectful distance at all times. Despite the human’s young, unassuming face, Cabe Bedlam was a mage of remarkable power. The broad streak of silver cutting across his otherwise black hair was proof of that. All human sorcerers bore some sort of mark in the hair, either a stripe of silver or a peppering over the entire head.
Cabe turned slowly, obviously considering his response to the Dragon King’s words. He looked but midway through his third decade despite being well into his fifth. That was common among those gifted with the power, but in Cabe Bedlam’s case it was due to some spell his grandfather Nathan had cast long, long ago. In fact, with his jaw set and his bright eyes narrowed in contemplation, he greatly resembled his grandfather. Even the slightly turned nose was similar. The lord of the Dagora Forest had never told Cabe exactly how well he had known Nathan Bedlam, leader of the Dragon Masters. He did know that grandfather and grandson would have been as proud of one another as they both had been ashamed by Azran. The Bedlam family had ever been a fount of magical ability, whether for good or ill.
“I won’t let them enter the Manor grounds,” the human announced, a wave of his hand indicating both building and land. The Manor, as it was called by most, had existed for countless centuries. Green was of the opinion that the Seekers, the avian race that had preceded his own as masters of the realm, had built it, yet the bird folk did not normally devise structures so ground-based. Still, the Manor was not only carved marble; one entire portion of it was living tree. That and the many statues commemorating the Seekers were all the verification the Dragon King needed. Cabe had different notions concerning his home, and the two often argued amiably about the matter.
Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III Page 37
