Men screamed as their flesh was torn free. Two soldiers perished quickly. Even the short-snouted mounts struggled in vain to shake off the sinister servant of the emperor. Ursa had kept the creatures in reserve just in case invaders made it inside, but she had not expected to need them so soon.
“Aren’t you a feisty thing?” her adversary rasped to the creature he now held at arm’s length. “Let’s shed a little light on you, shall we?”
A fiery illumination spread from his hand to the shadow servant. The illumination briefly revealed a face full of bulbous eyes and a round mouth filled with teeth.
And then the light consumed the shadow.
Yet, by that time, Ursa had already transported herself away from the vicinity. She reappeared in one of the lower chambers, far enough away from the battle to at least be safe for a moment, but not so far that she could not hear the shouts, the roars, the clash of arms.
Invaders in Kivan Grath. Not since the downfall of her father --- Kyl’s predecessor --- had there been a successful incursion and that had been in great part due to the inclusion of the Bedlams in the struggle. Ursa had never known her father and had never had any desire to do so, but now she wished that she had known more of his secrets. While Kyl had, with the assistance of others, learned much concerning the hidden defenses the previous Lord Gold had set in place, everyone had remained aware that they had not discovered everything.
Never mind that! she reprimanded herself. The invaders must be repelled! Ursa had not committed everything available to her. Even if she did not know all of her father’s defenses, she knew all those that Kyl did.
The female drake concentrated. What she intended might risk the lives of some of her own kind, but they battled aware that they might be sacrificed for her brother. Kyl had sought to rule by merit and had done so enough that all those defending his domain had willing sworn their lives for him.
That should have been enough to encourage Ursa to finish her spell without further care, but still she sought to minimize the devastation. She had practiced long and hard for such a moment even though she had always hoped that she would never need to commit herself to such a dread act.
Ursa heard the rumble that marked her success with the first part of her attack. She had no doubt that the other defenders knew what was about to happen and prepared themselves.
By herself, she could not have done this. Only the fact that the former emperor had set things in motion already enabled her to literally bring part of the mountain down on the invaders.
Although Ursa could not see it, she envisioned the chaos as nearly every stalactite tore free from the ceiling and dropped on the unsuspecting enemy. Aware of the trap, the drakes would do their best to defend themselves, in her mind hopefully minimizing damage to their ranks. She felt the stalactites veer toward the direction from which the wolf riders had come ---
--- And then felt the consternation of the defenders as the rain of missiles turned on them instead.
“No! This is not possible!” she called, trying to will the stalactites to obey the ancient spell. “Away! Away!”
But still they refused to obey.
“Ah! There you are!”
Ursa reacted too late. This time, the fire burned too strong for her to resist. As she tumbled over, she caught a last glimpse of the human spellcaster grinning at her.
“Don’t worry. Just enough to put you under for a time...”
But Ursa was no longer able to listen.
* * *
When she woke, it was to find herself bound and set against one of the massive effigies lining the great court of the emperor. The two rows of gigantic, fantastical figures --- many of them believed to be examples of older, lost races --- seemed to peer down at her in sympathy.
Then, Ursa eyed a sight that sent shivers through her. Lined up like a second set of statues were glowering warriors wearing the foul wolf’s head crest of the Aramites. Their armor was worn, even oft-repaired, but still they presented an imposing image.
Yet, even worse than that was what presented itself to her when she glanced at the tall, stone throne where only recently her brother had sat. Now instead she beheld two more of the wolf raiders, as the Aramites were better known in the Dragonrealm. The bearded elder standing next to the throne had the look of a veteran commander. His eyes fixed on hers and for a moment she almost thought that she sensed what seemed a bit of guilt on his part.
At that moment, the other Aramite shifted. While he, too, was clearly a wolf raider of some seniority, in contrast to his companion he had a wild, almost manic look in his eyes. With one hand he pushed himself from the throne, revealing at the same time that his other arm did not exactly work as it should have.
And at that moment, Ursa knew his name. Orril D’Marr. The Gryphon had passed his description to all allies, asking them to report any hint of the wolf raider’s activities. Orril D’Marr, who had slain one son of the lord of Penacles and nearly killed a second.
“You are a very pretty one,” he remarked as he stood. “I’m glad we didn’t have to kill you. Very capable, too. Things might’ve been a bit more difficult for us if we hadn’t known all the tricks available to you in advance.”
In some ways, he reminded her of the male spellcaster, but where Ursa had recognized a sheer reckless nature on the part of the younger human, here she saw a deep, disturbing madness combined with a sharp mind.
“I know you’d like to speak, but our host suggested it would be best if you could not...and this is his home, after all.”
Ursa tried to respond but discovered he spoke the truth. Although she could open her mouth, no sound escaped. While a voice was not necessary for casting most spells, there were other reasons they would want her silent. Clearly some of the defenders would rally to her if she called.
However, if she could not speak, she could certainly gasp and that she did as both men turned from the throne to welcome a huge form emerging from the darkness behind the throne. A very huge form the likes of which only her brother could match in size when he transformed to his birth shape.
A dragon. A dragon with the golden hue only an emperor wore.
A dragon with dried flesh dangling from his body, torn wings, and bone showing through in both body and face.
And a dragon, most of all, that had clearly died long ago, yet still moved as if with life.
It cannot be! the captive drake thought fearfully. It cannot be our father...yet...it must be...
“At last,” it rasped, the eerie voice echoing throughout the throne room. “At last...”
A second gasp escaped her. The hulking dragon draped over the throne, then surveyed the chamber. Only then was it apparent that one eye socket was empty. Despite that horrific revelation, the gaze he finally turned upon Ursa was not the reason for her second gasp. That had to do with the voice, which she knew did not belong to her father because it belonged to another she was also aware was very, very dead.
The ruined jaws cracked into a parody of a reptilian smile. “Bring my sister to me...”
She swallowed hard as her worst fear was realized.
Despite its appearance, the ghoulish dragon before her was not her father, but rather another, older brother of hers, a brother long ago slain by none other than Cabe Bedlam himself.
Toma.
VII
Birds of Another Feather
The shrouded figure materialized in the glistening, crystalline chamber. The black, voluminous hood and cloak left the intruder’s features and form obscured for the moment, but any who had ever confronted or even just seen the figure before would have known exactly who it was who dared to enter this ancient sanctum.
“My father held you in awe, I think,” echoed a voice suddenly from everywhere. “I, too, did, when I wasss but a hatchling...uncle.”
The hooded form did not react to the abrupt voice nor even when a single crimson eye --- a reptilian eye --- appeared in each of the countless gleaming facets that made up his surround
ings. Instead, he calmly pulled back the hood enough to reveal at least some of his face...if not any of his features.
A strange blurriness covered the intruder’s face, a blurriness that gave some hint of features, but never with enough definition for any observer to make out specific details. What little that was visible ever seemed to shift slightly, even making it impossible for many who had confronted this spellcaster to stare for very long.
“I had heard you had gained eyesss, mouth, and nossse, uncle,” the hissing voice went on. “The ssstory isss not true, then.”
“There is only one able to set my curse aside for a time and you are not worthy of even her name being mentioned,” the cloaked figure replied calmly. “And you need not call me ‘uncle’. Some I would say to call me ‘Gerrod’ this time and any other time from now on. For you...for the likes of you, you may call me Shade.”
The voice chuckled darkly. “Very well, Shade. And now that we are through with any familial talk ---”
The eye vanished. From each crystalline facet a blinding light erupted, a light magnified a thousand times by those other facets in which it reflected.
Shade raised a gloved hand before where his eyes should have been. As he did, the hood of his cloak spread forward as if of its own volition, shielding him from the intense illumination.
“Your sire tried that trick on me more than once,” the warlock said as he used his other hand to create an arc of shadow in front of him. The moment that he had it finished, he made a cutting motion.
The shadow exploded, bits of darkness flying everywhere. As they scattered, they grew, matching the size of the facet toward which they flew. In seconds, more than half of the crystalline faces were covered.
“He finally learned the folly,” Shade concluded as the light dimmed to tolerable levels. “Perhaps with time, you will, too.”
“Time,” the voice murmured. “Ssspeak to me not about time. I outlasssted five brothersss, sssome of them born centuries upon centuries before me! Ssspeak not of time to the child of one who refusssed to ever die!”
“Logan was always a particularly stubborn brother,” Shade remarked almost wistfully. “I recall that much now, although not much more. There are still many holes in my memory.”
The rest of the glare died down. The eye returned to the facets left uncovered. “What isss it you want, warlock? What isss it you wish to purloin from my sssanctum? I am Lord Cryssstal now! I will not tolerate your thievery asss my father did!”
“Your predecessor tolerated little. He knew in the end, though, that we both stood side by side for the sake of the Dragonrealm.”
“Pretty wordsss. Only pretty wordsss. What have you come to take thisss time? Ssspeak and be done!”
“I wish to take nothing. You, as Lord Crystal, have the eyes of the world. Tell me, my lord Crystal, are all of those eyes focused where they should be? Are none of them...turned from the truth?”
Silence filled the chamber. The reptilian orb stared, then blinked once.
“I have become blind to all north.”
For the first time, Shade revealed some reaction. His head tilted to the right and one hand clenched. “And have you attempted to correct the blindness?”
More silence. Then... “Yesss. Despite all attemptsss, despite all available to me, the north remainsss asss murky asss your face...”
Shade ignored the comment. “So. As I believed. You have not given up.”
“I am my father’sss ssson.”
The warlock bowed at one of the largest images of the eye. “You are the Crystal Dragon. You are the lord of Legar.”
The eye receded, then faded away. A moment later, all the facets on the largest wall worked to form the image of the head of a huge dragon. Yet the immensity of the head was dwarfed by another feature, one most obvious in some ways and yet still startling to most...but not Shade, of course.
The dragon’s head glistened even more than the walls of the chamber did by themselves. The lord of the Legar Peninsula had skin not unlike the chamber’s walls. He was in every manner the Crystal Dragon, his appearance enhanced even more by the fact that all aspects of the power of a Dragon King were now his.
Once, this behemoth had been the heir apparent to what only a few knew was the oldest of all drake lords. Indeed, this Lord Crystal’s predecessor had been the very first of his line, something of which Shade had known, forgotten, known again, forgotten again, and known once more several times during his own many incarnations. Yet, what mattered most was that the first Lord Crystal had shared a common origin with the warlock, an origin that had also included every other first Dragon King to stalk the continent.
All had been brothers, when all had been more than human.
When all had been Vraad.
Shade was tempted to ask the new Lord Crystal if he knew about the Vraad. Aware of the first Crystal Dragon’s secretive nature --- and the fact that the drake lord had also been desperately seeking to retain what memories he had left of his mortal life --- Shade suspected that there were still facts that this new drake lord did not possess. He chose to leave it that way.
“I am lord of Legar!” rumbled the giant dragon. “And you will return here only at my sssufferance! Isss that underssstood?”
The warlock shrugged. “I only came to offer my help in removing the blindness ---”
“I do not need your help! You have come here for no purpossse! Begone from here or I will sssend you to the grave with my sssire!”
Shade treated the threat as he treated all threats to his life. He could be slain, but not destroyed. Another part of his curse that still remained, as far as he knew. Still, Shade was trying his best not to be killed out of fear that he would lose the only one who had ever given him true care, true stability...and even love that he could return.
How much this new drake lord understood concerning the dramatic changes in Shade’s current existence, the warlock did not know. What mattered to Shade was that he kept as many as possible among his actual and potential enemies --- which included most of creatures --- from realizing that there were now vulnerabilities...chief among them the life of the woman that he loved.
He wrapped his shroudlike cloak around him. There was no sense wasting more time here. Shade had found out what he needed to know, not that the new master of the Legar Peninsula would realize that at the moment. One additional note of importance he had discovered was that this Lord Crystal did not intend to be the recluse that his sire had been. He might be more surreptitious in his efforts than the other drake lords, but no longer would Legar be a place ignored.
As the cloak swirled around him, it tightened. The action was quick and severe, almost as if the garment planned to crush its wearer like a constrictor its prey. Yet, as cloak tightened, the warlock seemed to shrink within.
Just as Shade had expected, the Crystal Dragon struck. The Dragon King had been plotting an attack all along. The predictability made Shade smile even as immense heat radiating through the thousands and thousands of facets focused on where the hooded warlock stood.
But, by then, Shade was gone.
* * *
He reformed a breath later near the sea in an area north of the peninsula, just a few miles shy of where the hill dwarves dwelled. Shade paused a moment to search with his heightened senses for any hint of dwarven magic, but found nothing.
“I’ve kept us hidden from their sight,” came a voice that to him sounded like nothing less than pure music.
Shade turned...and as he did, the murkiness that was his face defined. Black locks of hair spilled down over the stern brow of a man perhaps just past his third decade. Matched with the perpetually rueful expression of his mouth was the somewhat aquiline nose and slightly narrowed chin that reminded him too much of his monstrous ancestry. Yet, despite now having the ability to make some adjustment to his features, the warlock did not. It had little to do with his own tastes, but rather those of the crimson-tressed young woman in the green dress.
“I feared for you,” she said as she came up to him. Before he could downplay her fears, the young woman kissed him soundly.
Shade had literally lived more than a thousand lives, but in them there had only been a few moments where his heart had given to another. Yet, despite the fact that Shade could not recall each of those moments well, he felt certain that no one had taken his heart the way the woman before him had.
“Valea.” He smiled as he said her name. She was, in fact, perhaps the only reason he ever smiled, but to the warlock she was reason enough.
The enchantress’s looks were reminiscent of her mother’s, the Lady Gwendolyn Bedlam. There was a slight rounding and softness that came from her father and accented her other features. Her eyes were green like her mother’s, but a softer green. She wore her hair shoulder length. It was all a vision that Shade could have stared at all his life, however long that might be.
“Those eyes,” she murmured, putting one hand to his cheek.
He knew to what Valea referred. Shade had crystalline eyes that glittered like the chamber from which he had just left, glittered with a fire. Yet, where Cabe Bedlam’s daughter found the fascinating --- even beautiful, so she had more than once said --- to Shade they were abominations, the ultimate reminder of the dark legacy he carried.
The reminder that he was Vraad.
As he always did, he tried to shake off any thought of his background. Images of savage faces with the same fearsome eyes briefly flashed through his mind, many of them unfortunately kin.
“I have verified everything. The north is under a blanket of magical blindness so thorough that even the great cavern of Lord Crystal cannot pierce it.”
“What is going on there? Is it --- is it one of yours?”
He fought back a wince. She meant nothing terrible by her question. It made perfect sense. If there was something terrible going on in the world, certainly a Vraad could be responsible. Never mind that his kind were supposed to be a relic of the far past, a blight upon the land that had long ago vanished. Unfortunately, elements of the savage race of sorcerers continued to resurrect themselves.
The Dragon Throne_Knights of the Frost Pt. I Page 8
