Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  Cabe could not explain to them, not without revealing what he felt should not be revealed. There had been enough tragedy and violence already; the knowledge . . . the suspicions . . . he entertained were enough to start a new war.

  The damning box sat on the table before him, a dark thing both revealing and mysterious. No one knew it was here; he had cast a cloaking spell around it at first opportunity. Since no one here had known of the box in the first place, the few moments it had been unshielded had not mattered. Besides, there were so many other concerns already being dealt with that it was doubtful anyone else had had the time to even notice the brief existence of the foul artifact.

  “What do I do about you?” Cabe muttered not for the first time. He prodded the box ever so slightly. “I should destroy you now, that’s what I should do.” Destroying it was not truly the answer, however. That would only leave the incident unresolved, possibly forever. The box was proof.

  He knew that, but the warlock could still not bring himself to take it to its former owner. This could set kingdom against kingdom . . . create civil wars. . . . Cabe wondered if the one responsible for the box had foreseen that. Had they actually wanted that?

  Cabe? The voice that suddenly echoed in his head made him grateful he had also taken the precaution of shielding part of his mind. Despite the fact that she was now linked to her husband, Lady Bedlam would not be aware of the thoughts running through his head. She, especially, could not be told just yet.

  It was possibly the first time he had kept something of such importance hidden from her. Cabe struggled with the shame as he responded to her mental summons. Yes?

  At last! came her response. I was beginning to fear for you, you know! This isn’t the first time I’ve tried to contact you.

  He grimaced. Cabe did not even know how long he had been sitting here, save that the small breakfast he had forced down no longer was enough to sustain him. At present, his stomach was sounding much like a volcano preparing to erupt. I’m sorry.

  Where are you?

  In my study.

  The surprise was almost vocal. Still? Darling-

  Before she could ask the question that he would again be forced to ignore, Cabe interjected, What is it? You sound as if you have some news.

  I do. It was clear that she did not like her questions being shunted aside again, but knew better than to argue at this point. For that, the frustrated mage was happy. This morning there was a missive from the Green Dragon.

  He straightened. “What does he want?” he asked out loud before recalling the link. Fortunately, asking the question was the same as framing it in his mind.

  The master of Irillian by the Sea is demanding to see Kyl sooner than we’d planned. In fact, the missive clearly indicates that we can expect him to leave his kingdom tomorrow or the day after.

  Of all the things that the missive might have contained, the meeting between Kyl and the Dragon Kings’ chosen representative had been the only matter the warlock had not worried about. Yet, it should have not been so surprising. Of course the Dragon Kings would know almost instantly about the botched assassination; they would be justly concerned about the state of affairs at this point. This alteration in the schedule was as much to assess the change the attempt might have had on the heir’s mental state as it was anything else. Cabe could not blame the drake lords, but he certainly wished that they had not reacted so. It meant one more terrible concern to add to the mountain already looming before him.

  Is the meeting place still the same or has he changed that, also?

  That’s what makes this even more important. The Blue Dragon is coming here.

  Cabe grunted. There really had been no reason to think that the Blue Dragon might have wanted to change the location of the meeting, but the warlock had wondered. Now he was being rewarded for the curiosity.

  There is no stopping the Blue Dragon. Therefore, Lord Green would like one of us to come see him. There are some details that he would like to go over; things we might have to do differently now that the Manor is the location. I think he might have some concern about Penacles and its stability, too. The Dragon Kings might be anxious about the Gryphon resuming control. That may be one reason that Blue will not wait. I know that doesn’t quite make sense, but the message indicated such a fear.

  Toos only died the other day, the somber mage noted to his wife. Does the entire continent already know? There really was no reason to be concerned about the return of the lionbird to the throne of Penacles; the policies of the general and his former commander were of a like nature. If the Dragon Kings had not been overly fearful of the regent’s rule, then the return of the Gryphon should not be bothering them that much. They could certainly not be thinking that the monarch of Penacles had war in mind. Cabe found the Green Dragon’s fears questionable.

  Will you go or shall I, Cabe?

  He realized that he had drifted away from the silent conversation. The warlock tapped a finger on the arm of the chair. He knew what he wanted to say, and he also knew it was the coward’s way. After some deliberation, Cabe finally sighed and replied, I’ll go.

  There was a still moment as she obviously waited for him to continue. When it evidently became clear that he had finished, the enchantress returned, All right. I hope everything goes well.

  Her concern, her love, was quite genuine, as it always was, and knowing that only served to make him feel even more guilty for hiding what he knew from her. Not for the first time, he was amazed that she still loved him so after all these years.

  It’ll be fine, he promised.

  Please hurry back.

  “I won’t stay any longer than need be,” he promised out loud. A breath later, the link was broken. Left alone once more, Cabe at first resumed his pensive staring, but then guilt forced him to sit up. Guilt and the glimpse of some figure at the very edge of his vision. Using his body to shield the box from the newcomer, he quickly cast a spell that sent the artifact to one of the chests in which he stored objects. The chest was protected by other spells, so Cabe knew that the box would be secure there.

  That left the intruder to deal with. The warlock finished turning around. “Who is-yes, scholar? Did you want something?”

  It was indeed the form of Benjin Traske, but the huge man was acting in a peculiar manner. First, he did not respond to the mage’s question. Second, the tutor appeared obsessed with the books just to the side and above where Cabe presently sat.

  “Scholar Traske? I asked you a-”

  Through the massive girth of the man the warlock could see the opposing wall.

  The Benjin Traske before him was nothing more than one of the Manor’s ghosts. Even as the realization sank in, the bearded figure, hand outstretched toward the shelf of tomes that Cabe kept in the study, ceased to be.

  Knowing that the tutor had been in the study more than once in the past, Cabe’s interest in the phantom dwindled somewhat. Out of habit, he located the notebook in which he kept track of all sightings and wrote down this latest addition to the parade of images. Cabe eyed the list, briefly wondering if he would ever discover the pattern or reasons for any of the ghostly intruders, then replaced the tome among the others. His gaze rested on some of the titles.

  Aurim was still not free of Toma’s spell. Cabe knew that he would not rest easy until that problem was also dealt with, but he had run out of ideas . . . of his own. It occurred to him now, though, that he had not consulted any of the books in his small collection here. Perhaps there was something he could quickly thumb through. It would but take a few minutes of his time to decide whether the books would be of any use. The Green Dragon could wait that long. Certainly Cabe could, if only for his son’s sake, he told himself.

  The master mage scanned the titles. To his disappointment, he knew almost immediately that he could eliminate virtually all of them. There was, however, one volume that he decided might offer some hint of what he sought. Cabe reached up, but as he took hold of the tome, the notebook, several v
olumes to the left, suddenly slipped and fell onto his desk. The book flipped open before him, revealing the page upon which he had just recorded his sighting of the Traske ghost.

  Cabe took the book he was holding and set it aside. Then, with more care than he had apparently used the last time, the annoyed mage returned the notebook to the shelf, this time making certain that it would not slip again.

  A quick glance through the book he had chosen revealed that it held no clue to a swift and safe manner by which to unbind the spell Toma had cast. In point of fact, it held nothing of use. Disgusted, the warlock rose from his chair and returned the tome to the shelf. As he pulled his hand away, Cabe happened to notice that the notebook was now a good third of the way over the edge. Quietly cursing himself for the carelessness with which he had undoubtedly returned the last book to the shelf, the warlock pushed the notebook back into place.

  That took some doing. It was like trying to squeeze a watermelon into a wine goblet, but at last he managed to accomplish his task. I’ll have to transfer a few of these to the Manor library. This shelf is far too overladen.

  Giving up his quest for the time being, he turned from the shelf and mentally prepared himself for the journey to the Green Dragon’s domain. It was not a meeting he looked forward to for many reasons, but Lord Blue’s sudden decision made it necessary that alterations in the plan be made and made with swiftness. Gwendolyn had too much to contend with already; Cabe could not place this on her shoulders, too.

  Steeling himself, the warlock pictured the lair of the lord of Dagora . . . and vanished.

  Had he not been so engrossed in his thoughts, had he looked back even for a moment, Cabe Bedlam would have perhaps noticed one peculiar thing. The notebook that he had so carefully returned twice now was already slightly over the edge of the shelf . . . and moving.

  “I have been thinking, Grath,” announced Kyl. The heir to the dragon throne was visibly calmer than he had been previously-a good sign. For Kyl to fall to pieces this late in the game would have been tragic. Everything that had been planned depended upon his ascension to the throne. Grath had been ready to drag his brother to the throne if that was what it took to see the coronation done. After that, the younger drake would take his just due. That was fair enough, he thought. Grath deserved much for enabling things to have gone this far. Even his mentor had praised his efforts.

  “What’ve you been thinking about, my brother?” He hoped that Kyl had not devised yet another insane plot for dealing with invisible assassins and the like. Kyl put on a devious front, but he lacked Grath’s depth in cunning and subterfuge. Besides, the heir had a hidden ally who was working even now to prevent a reoccurrence of the travesty perpetrated in the regent’s arena.

  “Benjin Trassske.”

  “And what about our tutor?”

  The two of them were in Kyl’s chamber. Grath had been reading while his brother, becoming more daring since yesterday, had wandered to the balcony. Granted, the Manor was the one place where even Grath was certain nothing could happen, but the hours just after the assassination had left his elder brother in such a state that he had secluded himself in his bedchamber, not even deigning to eat his meals with the Bedlams, specifically Valea. The younger drake had been annoyed by such cowardice, for it had ruined a perfect opportunity to play on the beautiful witch’s sympathies.

  Kyl turned from the balcony, every inch the dazzling emperor-to-be he had been trained from birth to become. The improvement was remarkable and could easily be traced to the visit by the very person the heir now spoke of. “We have known Ssscholar Trassske for many yearsss, from the day he firssst came to educate us. How many yearsss isss that?” He waved aside the response that Grath was about to make. “I do not need the exact count. What I mean isss that throughout ssso long a period, the man hasss tutored usss well and guided usss as much asss any other. Hisss knowledge isss great and hisss ssskillsss many. Yesterday, I know that I sssaid he could not underssstand all that I face, but today I sssee thingsss in a new light. Asss ever, he hasss been a steadying force.” Kyl eyed his brother. “You ressspect him greatly, do you not?”

  “More than you could ever know,” replied Grath, suspecting where this was going but afraid to reveal his enthusiasm.

  Unseen by the smiling Kyl, Faras and Ssgayn exchanged brief, unreadable glances.

  “Asss I thought. My own admiration for him isss alssso very high. That isss why I think that I shall apologize to him for my earlier wordsss and asssk him quite sssincerely if he will join me after I become emperor and . . . and become a trusssted advisssor, sssecond to you, of course, brother.”

  Inside, Grath was fighting back the urge to cry out his triumph. The seed he had planted long ago had finally taken root: Kyl wanted his former tutor as a counselor. Keeping his voice properly restrained, Grath nodded his approval and replied, “I could not have made a better suggestion myself, Kyl.”

  “The only trouble may lie in whether he will accept.” The heir paced back and forth, a habit that his brother secretly found very irritating. Kyl finally paused and looked again at Grath. “You have much influence with our dear teacher. Perhapsss if you presssented him with the offer, he might be more willing to agree. He isss human and a sssurvivor of Mito Pica, which definitely will be wallsss needing to be ssscaled-”

  “No wall is too high for a dragon.” It was an old drake saying, one which his mentor had taught him long ago. “I think that I can do it, Kyl. I think that he might be interested.”

  His brother’s eyes drifted from his to fix upon the empty air. “It’sss almossst time, Grath. Only the confrontation with Lord Blue remainsss asss a ssstumbling block.” A hint of nervousness tinged his words. “That will prove an interesssting meeting.”

  “But one not to be fearful of.” Grath put down the book he was reading and rose. He met Kyl’s glare with a confident expression. “I am not insinuating that you are afraid, Kyl. Simply that you will so impress Lord Blue that none of the others will question him when he gives you his support. The rest will fall in line then, especially when they learn that the daughter of Cabe Bedlam follows you to Kivan Grath.”

  “Valea . . .” The look in the heir’s emerald-gold countenance made it clear that the elder drake had completely forgotten about the enchantress he had been courting. “She may not come.”

  Grath walked over to his brother and straightened the narrow collar of Kyl’s tunic. “You’re wearing one of her favorite outfits. She finds you almost irresistible in it.” He pretended as if an idea had just struck him rather than had been simmering since earlier in the morning. “You should look for her. Lead her to a place where the two of you can be alone. Now would be the best time to strike, to ask her to be yours.”

  Kyl looked uncomfortable. “She’ll be expecting marriage. Asss emperor, I could only take one of our own kind asss a mate. You know that.”

  “Do you have to mention the word? A bonding is all you need talk about, Kyl, if you don’t wish to lie. She will be bonded to you.”

  That brought a hiss of anger from the heir. “I would rather that she came willingly. I am not ssso loathsssome that I mussst resssort to a ssspell, am I?”

  “Of course not, but we are rushed for time! When your position as emperor is more secure, then you can release her from the spell if you so wish.” By that time you will dare not, brother, and we both know it, Grath silently added. Again, he knew that Kyl would tire of her as a female and see her only as a tool. The bond would allow her to keep her personality, but prevent her from disobeying her masters. Valea Bedlam would still need comfort . . . and giving that comfort would link her with Grath in a way that would grow stronger as the spell grew weaker. You’ll bring her with you for my interests alone, if nothing else. After all of this, I will have my rewards, too, and she will be my most prized!

  Slowly, the emperor-to-be agreed. “You are correct asss usssual, Grath. With you and Ssscholar Trassske to advissse me, I will make the throne of the Dragon Emperor on
ce more the ultimate power in all the Dragonrealm!”

  It will certainly have the proper flair for the dramatic! the younger drake decided, stepping away. “Speaking of our tutor, if I am to persuade him to join us, I must first talk to him. The sooner the better. You should do the same with Valea, Kyl.”

  “Yesss, you are correct, of course.” As Grath started for the door, Kyl turned away from it. “But firssst, I should make certain that I am my very bessst. Then, she will not be able to help but be ssswept off her feet, asss the humansss sssay.”

  Grath held back a groan. There was, it had to be said, something for the way Kyl was behaving, but over the years he had grown weary of his brother’s preening. Grath knew that he himself was considered quite fascinating to both human and drake females, but his role did not allow much time for making full use of his charms. It was Kyl who was supposed to be the mark of perfection.

  But, in the end, she’ll be mine. That’s what matters. I will have the sorceress and I will be the true lord of all the land!

  In only a matter of days. . . .

  Only a matter of days left and I still haven’t talked to him, Valea thought morosely as she walked the halls of the Manor. The ancient structure seemed so cold, so oppressive to her. She had not seen Kyl since he had retired to his chambers after the attempt on his life. Grath and Benjin Traske had both said that he was well, but clearly the botched assassination had had some effect. The young Lady Bedlam wanted dearly to go to Kyl and see if there was any comfort she could give him, but that would be throwing herself at him. She had her pride, after all.

  That was all she would have if he left without speaking to her. While on one hand it was clearly ridiculous to think that he would remain in his rooms until his ascent to the throne, Valea could not help imagining that it might be so.