Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  Kyl’s eyes were bright with eagerness. He had not yet calmed down after his victory. “Yesss! I would be delighted!”

  “Excellent! There are also some last arrangements to be made for the events of the next few days, arrangements that will be passed on for your approval later this evening. I hope you’ll find your time here well spent.”

  The regent bid them all farewell, including Grath and the Dragon King, who had just rejoined the party. Grath, too, looked exhausted from the game, but he seemed slightly less enthusiastic. Considering the outcome, Cabe did not think the younger drake’s attitude at all surprising.

  “An excellent game, Your Majesty,” the Dragon King commented.

  “Yesss, it wasss! Lord Green, when I am emperor, I would like your help in creating a version of thisss tournament for our own kind.”

  “I will be happy to be of ssservice, although I fear our warriors might be a little more inclined to blood than these humans were.”

  That did not seem to bother the heir at all. In fact, the warlock thought that he looked much too hopeful.

  “If Your Majesty is ready to depart,” the Gryphon interrupted, “the royal armory requires a short ride.”

  “Armory?” questioned the Dragon King.

  “It isss sssupposssed to be fassscinating, Lord Green!”

  The drake lord acknowledged Kyl’s words. “You will certainly enjoy it, my liege, but I must request you permit me to stay behind. I mussst really see how things are progressing with the rest of our caravan. We want no incidents such as happened with the artisan Osseuss. I would like to make certain that everyone knows what they are and are not permitted to do.”

  Kyl was not about to miss the armory. He waved away the Dragon King. “Of course, you have my permission. You will report to me later?”

  The Green Dragon’s tone was neutral. “Of course, my emperor.”

  Once again, it amazed Cabe to see how willingly the Dragon King bent before the young heir. Green truly had to want this peace to work, for there could be no other reason for his willingness to suffer Kyl’s bouts of lordliness. The warlock sincerely doubted that he could be so understanding.

  The matter dismissed from his thoughts, the eager young heir turned back to the Gryphon. “We may depart whenever you wish, Lord Gryphon.”

  “Thank you.” Kyl did not notice the slight touch of humor in the lionbird’s tone, but it was all Cabe could do to keep from smiling. “Lord Green, if you’ll join us for a short time, I will find you a proper escort to lead you to your chambers.”

  “That would be sssuitable, thank you.” Even under present circumstances, any drake who walked alone in Penacles risked danger. Not as great a danger as in Talak, but enough that such a risk was not to be taken.

  They had only just begun walking when Cabe felt someone touch him on the shoulder. He turned to find Grath behind him, which startled the sorcerer a bit, since the younger drake always seemed either at the side of his brother or next to the Dragon King.

  “What is it, Grath?”

  “Master Bedlam, is Darkhorse coming? I think Kyl was expecting him to be here. He will not disappoint us, will he?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since we returned from Talak.” Realizing that, the mage’s earlier worries came back multiplied. It had been quite some time since he or anyone had seen the eternal. Had something happened?

  The young drake’s thoughts apparently mirrored his own. “Do you think he’s all right?”

  “He should be. Darkhorse has a tendency to turn up at the most unexpected times. He’ll likely materialize in the midst of the reception, just like he did in Talak.”

  That brought a brief smile to Grath’s handsome face, but then the smile slipped as he said, “I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  The conversation ended there. Moments later, Grath drifted back to his brother’s side.

  Try as he might, the warlock could not stop thinking about the shadow steed. He was certain that Darkhorse had continued on with his investigations into the mysterious traps some unknown enemy had planted.

  Unknown enemy? With all else he had been blamed for, could not such cunning, magical traps have been set by Toma? It made perfect sense to Cabe, although he was willing to admit that he was paranoid when it came to the renegade. Still, it would explain a lot.

  Darkhorse in the claws of Toma. . . .

  XIII

  The headache had not gone away even after several days. Aurim calculated that by now his father was spending his second day in Penacles. His mother planned to leave tomorrow, but not if Aurim was not well. Aurim had insisted that the headache was nothing, which was something of a lie. However, the throbbing in his head was nothing compared to the thought of looking weak.

  It was a peculiar headache. For the first day, it had seemed like any other, but after that, the throbbing had taken on a strange quality. It was as if something was trying to break free. Each day seemed to weaken whatever held that thing back.

  For reasons he did not understand save perhaps that it might end the pain, Aurim felt as if he wanted the mysterious force to burst free.

  Eyes open, he stared at the ceiling of his bedchamber. His mother had suggested that he take an afternoon nap, something that he had not done since he was five. There was no arguing with the Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam, however, and so Aurim had retreated to his room. To his surprise, he had actually slept. Unfortunately, when he woke it was to find that the headache was, if anything, worse than ever.

  He rolled over and stared at the balcony. Aurim found himself drawn to it for what must have been the dozenth time since he had stirred but minutes before.

  Groaning, Aurim rose. Whatever fascinated him about the balcony drove him almost as crazy as the headache did. Maybe if I look outside, that’ll make it stop! He hoped so. Aurim was certain that he could overcome the headache, but not the headache and this peculiar compulsion.

  No great revelation came to him as he stepped out. Still, the breeze that touched his face calmed him a little. He leaned on the carved handrail and peered down. People, both human and drake, went about their businesses. Off in the distance, Aurim could make out his sister and Ursa. Probably pining for Kyl! he thought with a snort. Kyl was his friend, but Aurim doubted that any relationship between the drake and his sister was a wise thing. Try telling that to her, though.

  The throbbing continued unabated. Trying to keep his mind from it, Aurim continued to study the areas below. Perhaps if he took a walk through the maze. That always soothed him. If his mother had no need for him, he would do that. The garden maze had been his own personal world when he had been tiny: a fantasy realm where he had sometimes fought heroic battles and other times simply sat and enjoyed the peacefulness.

  He looked to his left. The stables, as usual, were fairly active. Some of the horses were being walked. Two figures were inspecting the hoof of a bay. One of them straightened, shaking his head. Ssarekai.

  Ssarekai.

  “Toma . . .” he whispered, not realizing what he had uttered until a moment later. When he became aware, Aurim’s countenance paled. He did not remember everything, but he remembered something.

  Toma! That night I woke . . . the stables . . .

  “Ssarekai?”

  He did not even recall transporting himself, but suddenly Aurim was standing before the drake. The bay whinnied and tried to shy away from him, but the stable hand who had been conversing with Ssarekai managed to maintain his hold.

  “Master Aurim! You should never-”

  “What happened, Ssarekai? What did he do?”

  The drake looked at him as if the warlock had gone mad. Perhaps he had, but Aurim did not care. He only wanted some answers to the horrible memories suddenly filling his head. Without thinking, he reached for the servitor and pulled him close. Ssarekai did not struggle, perhaps recalling that as a mage of great potential, his young master could have as easily thrown him across the span of the Manor grounds.

  “Yo
u were with him! Somewhere below my chambers! You were with Toma!”

  He had never seen a drake blanch before, but Ssarekai managed to do just that. The drake shook his head and his tongue darted out and in. He was so frightened that his sibilance became even worse than Kyl’s.

  “Not sssso, Masssster Aurrrim! Not sssso! I would neverrr have anything to do with that rrrenegade, that monsssster!”

  “I saw you! I also saw him-” Saw him do what? Do something, but I can’t recall what it was Toma did!

  “I know nothing; I sssswear that by the Drrragon of the Depthssss!”

  “Aurim!”

  He ignored the call, his concern only for an answer to the scene replaying in his head. It was like reading the same page of a book over and over. He saw-or rather had sensed-the two of them below. Ssarekai himself the warlock could not really recall noticing, but he had been there; Aurim knew that now. Ssarekai had stood in silence while something had happened to Toma, a spell that the renegade himself had cast.

  “Aurim!” This time the voice would not be denied. A hand clamped onto his shoulder to emphasize that fact.

  Abruptly aware of what he was doing, the young sorcerer released his grip on the drake. Ssarekai hissed in relief, then stepped back just enough to be out of reach. Everyone was staring at Aurim . . . including his mother.

  She almost seemed ablaze. The enchantress took hold of her son by the arms and looked him straight in the eyes. Under that gaze, he could not turn away.

  “Listen to me!” she demanded. “Do you know what you’ve been doing?”

  Much of the fight left him. He had come close to using his power on a trusted retainer, on someone who was a friend. He had been about to unleash his power without any thought as to the consequences.

  “Do you know now?”

  Aurim nodded. Only then did it become possible for him to look away. In a voice much younger, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not the one to apologize to.”

  He understood. Turning around, he faced the still wary Ssarekai. Two stable hands were half-supporting the drake. “I’m sorry, Ssarekai! I really am!”

  His extended hand was at first greeted with a stare. Then, the drake slowly extended his own. The two clasped hands. Ssarekai even smiled.

  Although everyone else had begun to relax, Aurim was still anxious. His mother must have noticed, for she again drew his attention to her.

  “Now tell me what happened, Aurim. Think it over carefully and answer me as best as you can.”

  Taking a deep breath, Aurim related his tale, beginning with waking up and feeling the urge to go to the balcony. The emerald sorceress’s eyes burned when he mentioned suddenly recalling the presences of Toma and, belatedly, Ssarekai. What they had been doing, he could not remember. Aurim only knew that something had been happening to the renegade.

  When his story was finished, Gwendolyn Bedlam turned to the unnerved Ssarekai, who had spent the last several seconds shaking his head in denial of his young master’s condemning statements.

  “You’ve been with us since the beginning, Ssarekai. I won’t judge you without first hearing what you have to say.”

  “I am innocent of thissss, misssstressss!”

  “Calm yourself.” She touched him on the shoulder, touched him gently so that he could know that she was not going to harm him. “Tell me.”

  Hissing, the drake sputtered, “I remember nothing of the fantastic tale Massster Aurim related! I would never deal with the likesss of that monster Toma! Never!”

  Gwen glanced at Aurim. “What night was this? Do you remember that?”

  He tried hard to recall. The best he could give her was a period of time spread across four days.

  Again, Gwen questioned the drake. “Do you recall anything about those nights?”

  Ssarekai looked even more distressed. “Misssstressss, I generally sleep very ssssoundly at night. I recall nothing of thosssse nights!”

  “Nothing?” Her hand slid an inch or two across his shoulder.

  “Nothing.”

  “I know what I saw!” Aurim exclaimed. Now that he had remembered, it amazed him that he could have ever forgotten. How had it been possible, unless . . . unless Toma had cast some spell on him?

  Toma in his mind. He recalled that now, too.

  “His mind has been tampered with.”

  His initial thought was to believe that his mother was speaking of him. Only when he realized that she was looking at Ssarekai did Aurim understand.

  “The spell is very subtle,” the enchantress went on. “And unless we were looking for it, it would be almost impossible to notice. I’d wager you have something akin to it in your own mind, Aurim, but because of your power, the spell could not affect you as thoroughly as it did Ssarekai.”

  The drake should have been pleased to have verification that he was innocent of the young warlock’s accusations, but discovering that the renegade had toyed with his mind had quickly destroyed that brief pleasure. Still, Ssarekai was not the type to let his fears rule him. “Can you remove it, Mistress Gwendolyn? I would remember whatever shameful thingsss the monssster had me do ssso that we can begin tracking him down!”

  She concentrated on him, seeming to stare into the drake’s very soul. However, after more than a minute of this, a minute which to Aurim felt as if it were an hour, the enchantress shook her head. “No, not now. He’s somehow bound it to you. It will take more effort, more study. I think I would prefer that my husband or perhaps the Gryphon worked with me.”

  “What if I try, Mother?” asked the young warlock. They had always talked about his potential; why not let him prove himself here and now?

  “I know what you’re thinking, Aurim, and it’s true you have the power, but this is a spell crafted by a black mage far more experienced than you. With time, you’ll likely be able to do this without anyone’s aid, but this is a predicament requiring long mastery of sorcery.”

  “I understand.” He did, too. Duke Toma no doubt knew a thousand different ways to tangle his spell so that removing it would likely tear apart his victim’s mind. Aurim did not wish to be responsible for Ssarekai’s death.

  It then occurred to him that the drake was not alone in his predicament.

  “Mother, what about me?” His voice shook just a little. “I have the same spell on me.”

  Her voice was calm, but her expression hinted at her great concern. “I know, Aurim. I thought about that the moment I realized I could not remove the spell on Ssarekai. However, you should bear one thing in mind. Your ability to focus and use your power far exceeds that of Ssarekai. The fact that you recall anything-and I suspect you’ve been struggling to do so for days-proves that your own mind is fighting back. It could very well be that this is the beginning of the spell’s unraveling. You could recall everything else that happened that night at any moment.”

  “The headache has lessened.”

  “As I thought it might have. We shall have to see what happens now. This is something that must be monitored carefully.”

  “Will you still be going to Penacles?”

  “I don’t know.” She eyed both Aurim and Ssarekai. “There are different options, and all of them should be weighed first. I should contact your father, however. Although what I can tell him that won’t simply add to his worries, I don’t know. If you could only recall more . . . with so much going on in Penacles, I hate to add this. Worse yet, the formal reception is this evening, and once again I’ve promised to be there.” Lady Bedlam uttered a mild curse, which still managed to startle a few of those who had gathered around them. “Cabe has the right of it: this land does seem to like nothing better than to complicate and endanger our lives!”

  Aurim could only nod grimly. She would get no argument from him on that matter. As far as he was concerned, the Dragonrealm had chosen them to be players in some game. The moment one crisis seemed past, yet a new one would come to life. His father found it all very frustrating and had mentioned
quite often that he hoped the peace would mean an end to that game.

  Head still throbbing, Aurim’s only question was what the land would do with its pieces when the game was over.

  “So the devil has been busy, has he?”

  The Gryphon’s words rang in Cabe’s ears. After much deliberation, Gwen had contacted him and described what had happened to their son and Ssarekai. The warlock was, of course, concerned for the drake, but he could not help being more fearful for his son’s life. Toma particularly hated anyone of the name Bedlam; unraveling the spell blocking Aurim’s memories might kill him . . . and none too pleasantly, either.

  His wife had wanted to bring both victims to Penacles, but then both of them realized that doing so would leave the Manor with no one to keep an eye on it. With Toma’s whereabouts unknown, that might be as good as inviting him to wreak more havoc. Neither Cabe nor Gwen planned on leaving Valea in charge; she was not yet old enough or skilled enough to take on a drake as experienced as the renegade. The warlock was wondering whether even he was prepared for the drake duke.

  “I wish Darkhorse was here,” he muttered to the figure standing before him. The two of them had retired to the Gryphon’s chambers as soon as the sorcerer became aware of Gwendolyn’s mind touching his own.

  The news had not been good. That Toma had dared to do what he had done to Aurim and Ssarekai disgusted Cabe. He was only thankful that the renegade had not done worse.

  “I’ve got to go home, Gryphon! I’ve got to do what I can to help free my son of that spell. There’s no telling what might happen otherwise!”

  The lionbird nodded. “I understand completely, Cabe. You know that.”

  His statement made the anxious sorcerer feel a little guilty. The Gryphon had lost a son already; Aurim was still alive and healthy.

  “We’ll have to explain to Toos and the others. I’ll also need to get word to Troia.”