Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

by Richard A. Knaak

  Ursa had been of little assistance in assuaging her fears, mostly because she had hardly been around. The female drake and Aurim were up to something in his room. Nothing romantic, of course. The two might as well have been brother and sister as far as Valea was concerned. They got along better at times than Valea and Aurim did. No, the young enchantress suspected that they were attempting to find the key to releasing her brother from the spell on his mind. Valea would have been worried if Aurim had tried to do this on his own, but with the more pragmatic and patient Ursa to guide him, it was possible that the two would succeed where even the Gryphon had so far failed.

  Which still meant that she had no one to talk to about her situation. Mother was busy with some preparations and, as far as she knew, her father was still ensconced in his study, being moody over who knew what. She could not have talked to either of them, anyway, not about this.

  Valea sighed and abstractedly created a flying ring of roses that she then made spin slowly around and around. She bored of the sight very quickly, however, and changed the flowers to paper birds, which fluttered about and danced in some sort of aerial ballet her subconscious had decided upon.

  There was only one person that she could turn to, only one person who would understand: Benjin Traske. She had tried to avoid disturbing him, for he, too, had seemed pressed since returning from Penacles. Twice Valea had tried to talk to him, but both times he had seemed preoccupied with something else.

  I can only try. I have to talk to someone.

  She turned down a hallway that would take her toward the scholar’s chambers, the paper birds vanishing in little puffs of smoke as the young Lady Bedlam’s concerns turned to what she would say to her tutor. He might not even have time to speak with her, but Valea had to try. She was fairly bursting. She needed someone close to talk to, and Scholar Traske had already more than proven himself in that regard. Had he not been the one to tell Valea that Kyl loved her? Had she not discussed her quandary with him several times since then? If he could just give her a minute, it would at least make Valea feel a little better. Perhaps he would even have a solution.

  It certainly could not hurt to ask.

  There were times when the Manor seemed larger on the inside than it did from the outside, but Valea was fairly certain that the feeling was an illusion more than any magic inherent in the ancient edifice. There was no denying that the unknown builders had been great craftsmen. The enchantress did not even mind the long walk this time, for there were still things that she had to resolve with herself.

  Along her path she met few others. Most of the people were outside, either working or enjoying the weather. The Manor itself was a surprisingly easy place to care for; it practically cared for itself. Valea had often thought that the true purpose of the many servants in the house was to give it some life. Granted, this had been her home since birth, but the Manor could seem very lonely when no one else was about.

  She hated to think what it would be like if she was left behind after Kyl headed north to his throne.

  Valea turned down yet another corridor and, because her mind was engrossed in her terrible problem, she did not at first see the figure at the other end of the hall. Only when she heard the sound of boots did she stir from her contemplations.

  To her surprise and pleasure, it was Benjin Traske himself. The scholar had evidently not been in his room after all, but the direction in which he was heading indicated that he was likely on his way there now. The young woman wanted to call to him, but she had been raised not to do such mannerless things as shout across halls, so Valea had to content herself with increasing her pace and hoping that she might attract his attention before he entered his chambers.

  Valea reached the intersecting corridor and followed after the scholar, but despite his immense girth, Benjin Traske was a swift man. Already he was nearly to the door of his chambers. She tried to hurry more, feeling somehow that to disturb him after he stepped inside was a greater inconvenience to the tutor. Benjin Traske had been so kind to her, she wanted to be as little trouble as possible to him.

  Concentrating on reaching the scholar, Valea paid no attention to the side corridors and alcoves. There was no reason to do so. That was why when the draconian figure stepped out from around a corner she did not at first notice him. Only when he rushed silently toward Traske’s unprotected back did she pay him any heed.

  Only then did the enchantress see the curved blade rise.

  Her reaction was instinctive, the memory of the regent’s death and Kyl’s near assassination still fresh. She raised a hand in the direction of the would-be killer and cried, “Nooo!”

  The assassin hesitated, obviously surprised to have been discovered. Valea was never able to unleash her spell, however, for with reflexes surprising even for Benjin Traske, the heavyset scholar whirled around to protect himself. The two figures became tangled together. Uncertain as to the effectiveness of her spell, she dared not use it for fear that the tutor would also suffer. Hoping for a better opportunity, Valea rushed forward. If the two separated for even a moment, she wanted to be ready.

  Traske and his attacker spun about. For the first time, Valea saw the countenance of the assassin-saw it and stumbled to a halt as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

  It was Ssarekai. As difficult as it was for most humans to recognize individual drakes from a distance, she knew the stable master too well not to know it was him now. Dear sweet Ssarekai, who had helped train her to ride her first horse and, later, her first riding drake. Ssarekai, who listened to her stories and told fascinating ones of his own about the days of the Dragon Emperor. Servitor drakes saw much that their superiors did not realize.

  Dear sweet Ssarekai was trying to murder Scholar Traske?

  She remained where she was, caught up in her confusion. Valea could think of no reason for the drake’s behavior at first, but then her chaotic thoughts happened to touch upon the spell that Toma had woven into the minds of both Ssarekai and her brother. Was this attack the result of that?

  The two hissing combatants seemed not to recall her at all as they spun back and forth, the blade dangling between them. Ssarekai still held it, but Benjin Traske had his wrist and was trying to push the blade toward the face of his adversary.

  “I know you again!” Ssarekai suddenly hissed. “I should have sssmelled your foul . . . foul ssscent and recognized it! You were alwaysss ssso certain of yourself!”

  Traske did not reply, but his bearded face had taken on a most-evil, was the only word Valea could find that fit-look, and as he pressed his counterattack, he appeared almost inhuman. His eyes seemed to blaze. His lips curled back in what reminded her of the toothy reptilian “smile” of an angry drake.

  She still did not know what to do. Somehow, the young sorceress could not bring herself to try to bring down the drake, no matter that he had tried to murder her teacher. There was something about the desperation in Ssarekai’s voice and the increasingly dark visage of Benjin Traske that prevented her from doing what should have seemed obvious. Summoning aid did not even enter her mind, so ensnared was she in the situation. Two of those who had been a part of her life from the beginning were fighting to the death, and she could not decide which one to save.

  The blade inched closer to the drake’s half-concealed face. Ssarekai evidently saw the inevitability of its path, for suddenly he released the knife, sending it clattering to the floor. At the same time, Valea felt a tug on the powers from which all mages drew, a sign that a spell of great magnitude was being formed and executed in rapid order.

  Ssarekai opened his mouth as if to scream, but no sound emerged. The drake froze in place and his entire form turned a mottled gray.

  It was Benjin Traske who had released the spell, the novice sorceress realized: Benjin Traske, who was supposed to have barely enough ability to raise a feather a few inches from the ground.

  It was Benjin Traske, a man who, still engrossed in crushing his opponent, was also beginning t
o melt.

  More and more he looked less human. His mouth was open in a triumphant smile, but the teeth within were noticeably jagged even from where Valea stood. The scholar’s skin had taken on a peculiar coloring, one that was faintly . . . green? He looked taller, thinner, and beneath his robes it seemed as if he might be wearing armor. Even the blade he always wore on his belt had changed, for now it gleamed as if it had become a source of light itself.

  Benjin Traske was a drake.

  He could be only one drake, but Valea tried to deny it. Tried and failed, for too many things were falling in place, many of them involving her.

  The stern but understanding man who had taught her and the others over the years was in reality the most hated creature in the Dragonrealm. He was Duke Toma, the renegade.

  He began to turn her way. His face and form were again solidifying into the one she was so familiar with, but it would be impossible for Valea to ever believe that what she had just witnessed had been some illusion.

  Traske/Toma fixed his gaze on her. “Valea-”

  She transported herself away without even thinking of where it would be best to go. The hallway before the tutor’s chamber door became another corridor. At first, the enchantress was uncertain as to where she had chosen to flee, but slowly Valea recognized her location. She was near Kyl’s room . . . only a few yards from his door, in fact.

  It was impossible to move. The realization of what she had just witnessed was finally catching up to her. Valea stood where she was, gasping for air and shaking. Only now did guilt touch her; guilt for leaving poor brave Ssarekai to Toma. It mattered not that she could have done nothing, but the weary sorceress felt that she should have been able to do something.

  Ssarekai must have recalled what it was the spell Toma had put on him had made him forget. That suppressed memory had probably concerned the horrible truth about Benjin Traske. Something had stirred the stable master’s memory enough to break the spell. Why Ssarekai had chosen the path he had, a daring assassination attempt, she did not know, but it likely would have succeeded if Valea had not chosen to be there at that moment.

  I have to warn everyone. Stirring, she tried to recall where her mother and father were. Father had been in his study. Perhaps he was still there. Valea tried to focus on the blue-robed figure. Father would make things right; he had always managed to overcome what she had often considered impossible odds. He would save them all from Toma.

  Perhaps he would have, if he had been in his study. Valea called to her father, but sensed only that he had been in the Manor but recently, which helped her not in the least. Toma could only be moments behind her. Valea knew what sort of chance she stood against the renegade. Toma was a spellcaster on a par with her parents. Aurim, whose skill and power were greater than hers at the moment, had easily fallen victim to the drake.

  She was almost ready to begin an attempt to contact her mother when the door to Kyl’s chambers swung open. The scarlet-tressed woman paused as the tall, elegant figure of the heir stepped into the corridor.

  “Valea?” Kyl’s mouth broke into a dazzling smile, making Valea almost forget what was happening. “Thisss isss a pleasssant sssurprise, I mussst sssay! I wasss jussst-”

  The sound of his voice stirred her to action. She seized him by the arms and cried, “Kyl! Toma’s in the Manor! Toma, he’s right behind-”

  Confusion and dismay spread across the drake’s exotic visage. He looked at her close. “What’sss that? What are you sssaying?”

  Before she could answer, however, an armored drake stepped out of Kyl’s chamber. Whether it was Faras or his counterpart Ssgayn, Valea could not at that moment have said. “My lord! We heard her ssspeak of Toma!”

  “She sssays that-”

  The guard did not wait for him to finish. He took hold of each of the two by an arm and began to steer them inside the room. “Bessst not to talk out here, my lord! What Toma cannot see he may not find! Hurry!”

  Valea wanted to protest, but Ssgayn-she had recognized his voice at last-already had them through the doorway. As he led them through, Faras, standing nearby, closed the door and bolted it.

  “We can’t simply wait here!” the sorceress finally shouted. “Toma will come here before long!”

  “I agree.” Kyl hissed in obvious nervousness. “Toma! I was jussst ssspeaking of him, wasss I not?”

  The two guards nodded solemnly.

  Valea had no time for this. Again she took hold of Kyl. Another time, such close contact would have thrilled her, but now what mattered was their lives. “Listen, Kyl! I tried to contact my father, but I couldn’t find him. I’ll try my mother, but you have to know something first. He’s Benjin Traske, Kyl! Benjin Traske!”

  The heir apparently misunderstood her. “Toma hasss the ssscholar? Where? How?”

  “No! Benjin Traske is Duke Toma! I discovered it by accident. He caught poor Ssarekai, who tried to kill him.”

  Kyl simply stood there, as if unable to accept what he was hearing. “Ssscholar Trassske isss Toma?”

  The two guards said nothing, but both had grown very tense. Valea could hardly blame them; how many times had they left their lord with the tutor, not realizing the truth? “I have to try my mother. Everyone is in danger! I think he dares not hide any longer, Kyl! He had to fight Ssarekai and he knows that I saw him!”

  “No more talk, then, my enchantress! Do what mussst be done.” He gave her an encouraging smile.

  Strengthened by that, Valea put as much will as she had left to muster into the magical summons. She had no idea where her father must be, but her mother was usually in the same place at this time of day. If she failed to contact Lady Bedlam, Valea then planned on trying a scattered call, which, theoretically, would send her message to all parts of the Manor. Valea had trouble with that method, though, which was why she hoped that she was successful with her first attempt.

  However, a peculiar thing happened when she tried to reach out and make contact with her mother. Valea felt the summons stretch forth from her mind, felt it building in strength, but when she tried to reach out beyond Kyl’s chamber, it was as if she had run into a mental wall. She tried to push harder, but still could sense nothing beyond the room. Valea tried again, but the results were the same. Try as she might, she could not have contacted her mother even if the emerald enchantress had been standing on the other side of the door to Kyl’s suite.

  Toma knew where they were. It was the only answer.

  “What isss wrong? Why are you shivering?”

  Shivering? Valea had not even noticed that she was shivering, but under the circumstances, she did not think that she could be blamed for doing so. Quickly, Valea explained what had happened.

  After she was done, Kyl glanced at his two guards, but their faces betrayed nothing. Valea simply assumed that they would follow whatever command he gave them. She had never been close to either Ssgayn or Faras, but then, they had never tried to be more than what they were. It was as if they had been born to be bodyguards all their lives.

  “Perhapsss . . .” Kyl began. “Perhapsss if we pool our abilities, Valea. I have alwaysss thought that between the two of usss, we could accomplish mossst anything!” He gave her a brief smile. “But talk of that can wait. What do you think? If your power and mine were combined, we might be able to contact one of your parentsss or, if need be, even deal with the renegade.”

  This at last caused the two guards to move. It was clear that they did not relish the idea of Kyl fighting Toma.

  “My lord-” Faras began.

  “Sssilence! Well, Valea?”

  Someone rapped on the door. A moment later, a familiar voice hissed, “Kyl! Let me in!”

  Grath! Valea had completely forgotten about Kyl’s brother. She had simply assumed that he was in one of the connecting rooms. If Grath had been elsewhere all this time, then he, too, had been in danger. In fact . . .

  The heir hissed. “I sssent him to talk to Benjin Trassske! Thank the Dragon of the Depth
sss that he isss safe! Open the door! Quickly now!”

  Faras had almost unbolted the door when Valea called, “No! You can’t!”

  The drake paused, then looked to Kyl for guidance. “My lord, your brother isss in danger while he is out there. You know that your chambersss are alssso spelled against intrusion by sssorcery.”

  Kyl waved aside Valea’s protests. “I know my own brother’s voice . . . and his mind.” He turned to face the door. “Grath! Did you ssspeak with Ssscholar Trassske asss I asked you?”

  “No!” returned the voice. “I-Kyl, you would not believe what I have to tell you! Let me in!”

  “Let him in,” whispered the emperor-to-be to Faras. “But I want all of you ready. Even Toma would not think to take the four of usss on, now would he?” The last was obviously for Valea’s benefit. She was certain that he was making a mistake, but there was nothing that she could do. Besides, it was cruel to let Grath remain out there. If he was alone, each second he was forced to wait left him vulnerable.

  Faras unbolted the door and peeked around it. Ssgayn and Kyl stood ready, the guard with a sword and Kyl with a spell of some kind. Valea readied a crude but powerful spell of her own. If Grath was the puppet of Toma . . .

  Slowly, Faras swung the door back just enough for a single person to slip through. Grath, or at least someone who looked exactly like him, did just that. Once the figure was through, the draconian guard immediately shut and rebolted the door.

  “There isss sssome reasssonable concern that you might not be who you look like, Grath.” Kyl’s tone was incredibly apologetic. “I hope you will forgive usss for having to determine the truth.”

  Grath stood still, his arms hanging at his sides. “I am me, but if you need to verify my honesty, please do so in whatever way you feel most suitable, Kyl.”

  Kyl looked at the guards. “Are you ready, jussst in cassse?”

  The two nodded. Satisfied, the dragon heir stepped in front of the one who might be his brother. He carefully reached out and put one hand on Grath’s shoulder.

  Valea felt the power that passed between them. All those with even the most minor tendency for sorcery had a special magical signature, a particular touch, that other mages could sense if they knew how. For two with as strong a bond as the brothers, it was virtually impossible to fool either one of them with a false signature. Even Toma would be hard-pressed to mask his own magical pattern as that of Grath.