The Dragon Throne: Knights of the Frost Pt. II (Legends of the Dragonrealm)

by Richard A. Knaak

  Only when one wing cracked dangerously did the Ice Dragon take notice. As the head swung to see what happened to the wing, a dangerous cracking sound erupted. Fracture lines developed along the long neck, especially near the base of the skull.

  No! came the voice, this time much fainter despite its urgency. No! I will not be ---

  The wing broke free, crashing to the ground and shattering. The other wing quickly followed suit. The slashing tail broke off, skidded to the side of the wall of the sphere, and broke into thousands of fragments.

  By the hundreds, then the thousands, bits of the Ice Dragon tumbled into a pile around the beast’s paws. The behemoth raised one paw to scratch at the surrounding barrier, only to have first the claws and then the paw itself break up and add to the growing rubble.

  Shade sensed the leviathan trying to compensate, but, in truth, much of the very power it had utilized to even draw itself together it had somehow thieved from the warlock. Now, cut off by the sphere, the Ice Dragon could not maintain any cohesion.

  The leviathan tried to roar, but the lower jaw fell away. The next second, a final, vicious crack spread across the throat.

  The upper part of the neck broke off. The head snapped free of the neck and dropped to the side. As the head hit the ground, the skull cracked open, crystalline shards skittering away.

  With the loss of the head, the rest of the body finally caved in on itself. The last traces of the horrific dragon spilled along the bottom of the sphere.

  Even then, Shade did not undo his work. He could sense the malevolent spirit struggling to free itself of the Seekers’ prison.

  The warlock gestured. The avians’ device shrank, returning to its original size.

  Inside, the Ice Dragon continued to rail. Shade ignored the ghost’s struggles, more interested in a closer inspection of the pit marking where the other mysterious force had burst from the rubble. Followed closely by the Seeker leader, the warlock cautiously approached.

  As he neared, Shade sensed an unsettlingly oddness radiating from the center. However, only when he stood on the edge did he finally see what so disturbed him.

  There was a hole. Yet, it was not exactly a hole. Indeed, it was much more than a hole, the warlock at last understood. It was the nexus of all that had happened here, including the resurrected spirit of the drake lord.

  To the mortal eye, there was nothing to see save a small crack in the icy ground. To the heightened senses of the warlock, however, it became a black pit perhaps twice as wide as he was tall and in which dark gray energies swirled around and around like some miniature maelstrom.

  The female Seeker came up beside him. Shade did not have to look at her to know that she saw the same sight that he did and sensed, just as he did, that this hole reached into another place, a sinister place.

  Shade frowned. This close, the faceless spellcaster finally recognized the source of the sinister emanations coming from the center.

  “Not possible,” he muttered. “Not possible ---”

  The miniature maelstrom rumbled.

  The warlock stepped back...only to find himself moving forward. He stuck a heel into the ground to stop his movement, but even that was not enough. Despite his best efforts, he was being pulled inexorably toward the hole.

  Unperturbed, Shade started a spell. If he was no longer in the vicinity, the hole could not pull him toward it ---

  But just as his spell unfolded, he felt the taloned hand of the female Seeker shove him forward. At the same time, she used her own power to disrupt his spell just enough.

  The pull from the hole became too great to defy. Shade toppled, then flew headfirst into the emptiness.

  The hole swallowed him up.

  IX

  A Touch of Frost

  Despite being deep underground, the cavern chamber in which Yssa stepped was filled with an abundance of rich vegetation generally seen in the world above. That flowers of a variety of size and color bloomed and great exotic plants rose tall and fresh around her did not surprise Yssa for two reasons, the least of which was that she had seen some variation of this throughout her nearly a hundred years of life. No, that such a cornucopia of plant life could exist down here made perfect sense when one considered that this was part of the sanctum of the master of the vast Dagora Forest. The Green Dragon.

  Yssa’s sire.

  Despite being the daughter of one of the Dragon Kings, Yssa had never truly felt like a member of Clan Green. It did not just have to do with the fact that she was the product of what most thought an impossible union, a drake and a human. There were even stranger things in the Dragonrealm than her. Rather, it had more to do with the fact that for most of her existence, her father had done everything he could to keep her separate from the rest. Yssa had seen the intricacies --- and the subterfuges --- of court life. She had, despite Lord Green’s best efforts to shield her from events, witnessed the deaths of more than one sibling, more than one heir apparent. That they had, like others in the rest of the drake clans, had died for their ambitions did not matter. Yssa had had a human desire for family and so losing each of them had been more a burden to her than any, so she believed.

  “Sssister.” From a passage on the opposite end of the vast chamber emerged a towering drake warrior. At first glance, he appeared to be a helmed knight in emerald-tinted chain mail. Standing nearly two feet taller than her even without the elaborate dragon’s head crest atop his helm, Zeen looked every bit a Dragon King already. Certainly, Yssa thought her younger brother had a temperament more akin to their father.

  Maybe that will keep him alive, Yssa thought as they approached one another. She so much wanted that to happen. Even if Zeen had to wait for centuries before Lord Green finally passed --- peacefully --- it was a far better fate.

  “Thank you for coming,” he continued as he took her hand. “You are the only one I can trussst when it comesss to dealing with Father.”

  “How is he? Isss he having --- is he having one of his fits?” Around Aurim, Yssa had always fought to keep the drake tendency toward sibilance when excited from revealing itself. She did not ever want him to see her as his own father did, as a creature half dragon. Here, though, Yssa could not help letting some of her fear out.

  “It mussst be,” her brother answered after briefly peering over his shoulder as if concerned that the drake lord might hear him. “Yet, thisss form of it I have never ssseen.”

  As Zeen spoke, his forked tongue darted out and in and more than once he bared his sharp, very sharp teeth. Unlike the Dragon Emperor and many others of the youngest generations, Zeen was considered something of a throwback with such features. Still, of all of Yssa’s half-siblings, he had always seemed to her to be the one with the most human emotions at times. It was why they had grown closer.

  “Exactly what do you mean?”

  “Come! The only way isss to sssee for yourssself! When I left him a short time ago, he wasss already in sssuch a ssstate.”

  Yssa waited for more information, but with a bow of his head, Zeen turned and headed back the way he had come. The odd, almost grateful bow he had given her had also momentarily granted Yssa a good view of the crest...and Zeen’s true face. The half-hidden, flat-featured countenance beneath the helm was only a mockery. The true grandeur that was Zeen, that was any male drake, was the dragon visage worn as the crest when they utilized their humanoid forms.

  After a moment’s hesitation, she followed. As Zeen entered the passage, Yssa noticed that the spells that generally illuminated such corridors did not light up. A tentative probe of her power verified that her brother was the cause of the darkness. Another probe indicated that Zeen was also masking their presence from those around them. In fact, Yssa realized that he had been doing so since her arrival. It bespoke of his already considerable abilities for him to be able to do so without her having initially noticed.

  Almost as impressive to her was the quiet and litheness with which the tall, broad drake warrior moved through the passage
. Yssa could could sense the caution with which Zeen performed every action, every movement. It served to set her on edge. This was her father toward whom they walked. This was the lord of the Dagora Forest upon whom they planned to spy.

  Yssa had traveled these corridors countless times during her life here and so she knew just when the pair neared the private quarters of the Green Dragon. Curiously, though, Zeen did not pause even when they reached the very entrance.

  She noticed an unnerving change immediately. There were no guards. Even in the heart of his realm, the lord of the Dagora Forest always had guards. They were tested, trusted warriors who would give their lives and would be willing even to slay Zeen and Yssa if they saw them as a threat to their liege.

  Zeen paused at the entrance. Leaning near his sibling, he whispered, “I will go no farther. You sssee what you think. If you do not go much beyond the entrance, he will not even notice you.”

  Frowning, Yssa moved past. As she cautiously entered, she thought she heard voices. Voices.

  But there was only one visible figure in the chamber. Her father. If anything, Lord Green stood even taller and broader than Zeen and bore atop his helm crest much more impressive. Indeed, the only jarring sight at first glance was the left arm, which ended just below the elbow. Yssa still recalled how her father had lost the rest during their struggle against the shadowy demon called Yureel years earlier. Because of the peculiar magical nature of the wound, the Dragon King had been unable to regenerate it or replace it in any useful manner.

  He had managed to compensate, but Yssa had always known that, despite outward appearances, there had been other deeper wounds unrecognized by anyone but her, that had secretly plagued the drake lord. Yssa had done what she could to help her father heal both physically and mentally and thought that she had managed fairly successfully, but now she wondered just what she might have missed.

  Lord Green stood facing the darkness, the master of the Dagora Forest speaking to the empty air before him.

  “Thisss will not do!” he argued with the emptiness. “He mussst not be allowed to ssspread his evil through the land again! We were well rid of him ---” Lord Green paused as if listening, then continued, “Your part in that isss passt. Your brother would forgive you --- no, he hasss forgiven you! I know thisss ---”

  Again, the Dragon King stopped. However, this time it was to abruptly turn to face Yssa.

  “So, my daughter! While your presence isss welcome, for what reason so you interrupt thisss conversation?”

  “’Conversation’, Father?”

  Clamping his mouth shut, Lord Green glanced over his shoulder to the darkness. A low hiss briefly escaped him. Turning back to her, he nodded. “Not conversation naturally,” the male drake corrected. “Merely a few muttered words to myssself over various sssubjects of importance to my domain.”

  “Of course.” Pretending that she had seen nothing to contradict her father, Yssa went to greet him properly. She took the hand he offered and squeezed it with her own. “And how are you, Father? Forgive me for being away so long this time.”

  With a very human sigh, Lord Green remarked, “You are about your future. The path of love is never simple. I know that. How is the younger Bedlam?”

  “He is Aurim. That is all I would ever ask.”

  “’He is Aurim’. Yes, he is that. He isss a Bedlam, the only human clan that can make the lives of drakes seem so straightforward by comparison. And his father?”

  “His mind remains steel, then.” The armored figure shook his head. “You once told me he invited you to come to the Manor. I thought all would go well after that.”

  For the moment, Yssa forgot what she had just witnessed. Memories flooded back. “I suppose he thought he could. However, when I did arrive and he saw Aurim and I together, it seems all his misgivings returned in a rush. I can’t blame him, Father. He knew me when I was younger. When I was...less tame.”

  The gauntleted hand was surprisingly gentle as it squeezed hers. “Your mother would have raised you with more care than I. I wish that she had survived your birth. I blame myself.”

  “She wouldn’t have blamed you,” Yssa countered, certain of that despite never having met her other parent. “She chose to accept you.”

  “I could have forced myself on her. It has happened in other lands, though you would never hear some of my brother kings admit to such. Only I have acknowledged my past...but then, I am always thought of as the ‘different’ one.”

  “Because you want peace between humans and drakes.”

  He grinned, revealing his own sharp teeth. “How can I not, when seeing how wonderful the ultimate alliance of our races has turned out?”

  His compliment only served to make her feel more guilty that she had been discussing him behind his back.

  Weariness suddenly overtook the Dragon King. The change was so abrupt that Yssa feared that he would collapse. However, the drake lord quickly caught himself.

  With a tired smile, he added, “It hasss been a trying day. We will dine together later, along with Zeen. Perhaps we can yet sssolve the riddle of how to put you in the good graces of Cabe Bedlam.”

  He put her hand to his lipless mouth and kissed it. Yssa knew from past experience that she was being dismissed. She bowed to her father, then departed.

  Zeen met her a short distance from the chamber. He acted pensive.

  “Isss it not all I sssaid, sssister?”

  “Did you remove the guards?”

  “Nay. That was his doing. His excuse was simply that he was involved in studies of the magical arts that it would not do for mere guards to witness. How could I argue with that?”

  How could he, indeed? Yssa thought. One did not contradict a Dragon King, not even their generally agreeable sire. As designated heir, Zeen faced greater scrutiny from his sire.

  “I heard him,” her brother continued. “You are to dine with him. You will do ssso?”

  “Of course. Won’t we both?”

  Zeen shook his head. “Father only dinesss alone. Thisss isss sssignificant. You will dine with him and perhaps we will find sssome way to deal with thisss --- this situation.”

  She did not like something in his tone. “I don’t understand what you mean? How will my dining with him make any difference?”

  The scaled warrior hissed. “With a longer conversation, you will know better the extent of his malady. Then and only then will we be able to ascertain if we mussst do what isss necesssary.”

  “’Necessary’? Zeen...you cannot mean ---”

  “Yesss, sssissster,” the male drake muttered, his briefly-suppressed sibilance returning stronger. “If we cannot sssave Father, we may have to depose him...”

  * * *

  Although he had lived longer than any creature who inhabited the Dragonrealm, Darkhorse had never quite completely accepted the concept of patience. He was a thing of the moment, acting and reacting to both his surroundings and circumstances. It was a trait that had served him well, but also one that had brought him to disaster. Still, as it had not destroyed him, Darkhorse was of the opinion that his lack of patience was more to be trusted than not.

  And so, when hours of watching the sanctum of Azran Bedlam continue to rebuild itself proved to at less and less of interest to the shadowy stallion, he was almost grateful for the brief yet telling hint of magical activity coming not from around him...but from deep below.

  Darkhorse knew of only one reason in the Hell Plains for such activity, a reason he felt certain Cabe Bedlam would insist that he seek out more information about. Of course, the mage would have also warned about heading into danger, but Darkhorse felt certain that he would be able to handle anything he might find.

  With that confident thought to spur him on, the towering stallion simply sank into the soil as if suddenly formed from ink. He seeped through the hot, harsh ground, soon slipping into the huge, underground passage he knew that he would find there.

  And there, not at all to his surprise, he foun
d the Jaruu.

  If discovering the testudinal servants of the Red Dragon at work below proved unremarkable to the shadow steed, their numbers certainly startled him. Hundreds of the tortoiselike race toiled relentlessly on the surrounding rock while to their north some of their fellows struggled to control half a dozen huge, burrowing beasts akin to tremendous shelled worms. The worms ripped away at the baked earth, slowly but surely expanding the vast chamber.

  In addition to the heavy pick axes most wielded, each shelled worker carried at their side a short sword with double blades. The Jaruu eyed the task before them ahead with narrow, black eyes that never blinked, never turned. They were utterly focused on their efforts.

  Despite the fact that the Jaruu clearly did not appear to need any coaxing to work, three drake warriors of Clan Red armed with long, wicked whips moved among the creatures. Whenever one of the trio evidently thought a Jaruu toiled too slowly, out would snap the whip. Darkhorse found it questionable as to whether the whip actually hurt, but the action appeared sufficient to cause the legions as a whole to pick up their pace.

  The eternal remained a puddle of ink long enough to make certain that no one could see him, then slowly reformed. After reassuring himself that there were indeed only three drakes, the shadow steed maneuvered around. At the same time, Darkhorse strengthened the shields he had cast to deflect detection by other magical powers.

  The ebony stallion watched with curiosity as the worms dug north. Darkhorse could not understand why Lord Red would have his servants digging that direction. To the north, there was only the far edge of the Tybers ---

  Then, in a land drenched in violent, seething volcanic activity, where water existed only deep underground lest it boil away, a stunning wave of cold struck the shadow steed.

  No, not just Darkhorse. He saw that the chill clearly swept over the worms, the Jaruu, and finally the drakes. The worms turned as if in fear of this abrupt change. The Jaruu paused, smelling the air with distrustful expressions before dropping their axes and reach for their weapons.