“Cabe.” Shade greeted him, his tone dark. “Would that I could say it was a pleasure to see you. A trick most cunning.”
“It needed to be, to lure you. Don’t worry about the shopkeeper. The real one is far from here. What you ensorcelled was one of the Gryphon’s golems with an illusion cast over it.”
“I’d wondered. You were never one to risk an innocent.” The sorcerer could sense the energies building around them, energies all summoned by his companion. It was a mistake to judge Cabe by his appearance; he was possibly the most powerful spellcaster in all the Dragonrealm.
But even with the arcane knowledge and ability inherited from his famous grandfather, Nathan, Cabe was not the most experienced. Not compared with one who had lived countless centuries.
Or so Shade hoped.
He drew his cloak into him. His body twisted, shrank into the folds.
“Shade!”
A spell tugged at him, nearly made the hooded sorcerer falter. In addition, the effects of Cabe’s previous spell still played havoc with Shade’s thoughts.
The shop faded, the frustrated image of the wizard with it. Shade felt his insides wrench but pressed his escape.
Cool, moist air struck his blurred face. Shade fell forward, only a stone wall preventing him from hitting the ground.
Even before his gaze could focus, he knew that he was still in Irillian. The smell of the sea cleared his head slightly, but not enough. Shade knew that he needed to concentrate if he hoped to transport himself farther away. Cabe would be right behind him, and worse, the wizard’s most obvious ally here in Irillian would be on the hunt for—
He sensed something terrible about to take place in the alley in which he had landed. Unable to focus enough to transport himself away, Shade was left with an ignoble sprint into the public areas.
A tremendous fwoosh erupted from behind him. The roar of water filled his ears. A flood surged past his boots toward the startled citizenry, the water rising up to his knees before the open areas let it settle again.
Had he been anyone else, his heightened senses would still likely not have been sufficient to warn him of the Blue Dragon’s attack. From far away in his lair, Irillian’s master had sent forth a small bit of the sea to entirely fill the alley. It had not simply been dumped into the narrow passage; the water had materialized there. Shade would have instantly drowned.
The humans and drakes eyed him with astonishment. Most did not recognize him—for who expects a dark legend in their midst?—but a few did, and the name by which he was known, the name now so much more apt than his original, sprang from more and more mouths.
The guards needed no such knowledge to urge them to action. Whether or not they knew who the intruder was, they clearly knew him as an enemy. A mounted drake officer sent the mainly human contingent forward. Swords and lances drawn, the guards converged on Shade.
Gasping for air, the sorcerer gestured. The guards’ weapons twisted down to the street, the tips digging deep into the stone. Several of the soldiers stumbled, some falling to the ground.
There was another rumble from the direction of the crowd, one that had nothing to do with Shade’s spell. He felt Cabe Bedlam’s nearby presence.
“You must stop this now, Shade! It’s for—”
It’s for your own good! How many times had he heard those words from the ones who felt that they knew best for him? They meant well, they had all meant well, but they had always proven themselves even less able to comprehend his curse than he.
Before the wizard could finish speaking, Shade drew a line at his feet. The street peeled upward, forming a wall between him and his adversary. Cabe Bedlam, ever mindful of the lives of others, did not dare cast blindly, exactly as the sorcerer had hoped.
Before Cabe could compensate, Shade again tried to transport himself away. His surroundings shimmered, changed.
A savage set of teeth nearly tore off his head.
Shade had more than once perished in grisly manners that made even this moment seem tame, but that in no way diminished his desire to avoid such a fate. He muttered under his breath and a tendril of energy encircled the reptilian maw barely a foot away.
The riding drake clawed at the fiery bands keeping its jaws clamped tight, but its efforts only garnered it singed nails. Shade forgot the beast as its rider, another blue-tinted, reptilian warrior, flung himself at the still-disoriented sorcerer.
The drake officer outweighed him by at least half again as much, most of it muscle. As the pair collided, Shade stared full into the false helm. The inhuman eyes narrowed with anticipation of battle and the lipless mouth twisted into a grin filled with predatory teeth.
Shade succeeded in bringing a hand between the drake and himself. Through the glove, power radiated.
His foe went flying over the head of the startled mount. The drake warrior crashed into the side of a building, shattering the clay face and even cracking part of the stone beneath. The armored figure slid to the street, senseless. It would take more than such a collision to slay or even much injure one of his kind, and the sorcerer had not had any such desire. He had come here only to save himself, not to add further blood to his foul legend.
Of course, not even Cabe Bedlam would likely appreciate such care on his part. They knew what he had been, what he might still become.
Shade prayed for a few moments’ respite, just enough to clear his head and recoup the strength he needed to finally fling himself from Irillian. However, at that moment, the riding drake did a curious thing that promised the sorcerer would have no such chance. It started heaving, rasping for breath, even though the sealed jaws would not have prevented the beast from inhaling or exhaling.
The reptilian mount rose on its hind legs. Onlookers in the area, only now realizing that there was a danger here, fled as the creature swelled in size and quickly began to transform.
A shock of energy devoured the magical ring the spellcaster had placed around the jaws. The beast hissed at him, then roared, “Accursed warlock, you will at last pay for the sundering of Irillian!”
The drake already stood several times his size and now looked more sleek, more aquatic. He bore vestigial wings smoothed for swimming through the turbulent seas and had a crest that bent far back, the better to enable its wearer to cut through the waves.
The leviathan was now a brilliant green-blue. The eyes, once those of a simple animal, filled with an intelligence clearly of a high degree.
Irillian’s lord had possessed the beast. The Dragon King loomed over the nearest buildings. Compared to him, Shade was but an ant.
The transformed drake opened its mouth wide, but fire was not what emerged. Instead, a fierce plume of water shot at the sorcerer.
Shade fell to one knee as tons of water struck. Yet, the plume split around him, battering the nearby buildings and ripping apart the street.
Pressure pounded Shade, but not in the form of water. The invisible shield he had managed to cast held, but the endless stream worked to weaken his concentration further. If he lost control for even a moment, the shield would vanish and he would be crushed to death.
It . . . seems . . . your ally . . . has a different end to this venture . . . than you . . . Cabe . . . Shade thought as he pushed his will to its limits. The wizard had wanted a prisoner; the Blue Dragon wanted vengeance for a wrong done more than five hundred years ago.
In truth, Shade could not fault him. A creature of darkness then, the sorcerer had been responsible for the deaths of hundreds, both human and drake, including the Dragon King’s heir of that time. That the incarnation of Shade responsible for that catastrophe had later slowly burned to death at the pleasure of another Dragon King would not have satisfied the lord of Irillian. To those who did not understand the curse, Shade was simply Shade no matter how many times he died.
The onslaught would not let up. Shade fell to his hands. He could not spare enough will to escape. The notion of having his flesh and bones pounded into an unidentifiable mass
sent shivers through him, especially since he had already suffered such a doom once before. While a swifter way to die than some, it was not among the most desirable.
The torrent ceased—or rather, it suddenly veered skyward. As he sought to catch his breath, Shade realized that he had not been spared due to any sudden remorse on the dragon’s part.
Cabe Bedlam had caught up. The wizard used his power to counter the Dragon King, an action that earned him a menacing hiss from the lord of Irillian.
“This is not what we agreed!” Cabe shouted at the behemoth.
“This is what must be!” roared the possessed drake. “This is what jussstice demandssss!” the Blue Dragon proclaimed, his words becoming more sibilant as his anger grew.
Shade took a deep breath. He could only afford to try one more time.
Every nerve screamed as the spell took control.
“No!” rumbled the Dragon King. “You will not—”
Irillian faded. Shade continued to pour all he had into making the spell work. He dared not land in Irillian again. If he did, those seeking his capture or death would need no magic to catch him. They could simply drag his limp body from the streets.
Silence encompassed him. He felt as if he floated in some dark, empty world—
He was hit by smothering heat. Shade gasped for air, only to then collide with what felt like some rocky surface. He bounced hard against another unseen protrusion, then landed on his back.
The sorcerer tried to rise but failed. He had given his all to escape, although to where, his addled senses could not say. The stifling air brought something to mind, but it was lost as with his blurred vision he beheld a vague figure looming over him. Even though the shape rippled, Shade felt certain that he was not imagining its presence . . . nor that it had a feminine silhouette.
The figure leaned over him, her long silver-blue hair draping down. At that moment, the sorcerer felt his tenuous grip on consciousness slip away. Still, in those last seconds, as he returned to the darkness, Shade thought he could make out the face.
He tried to reach out a hand to her, a hand his last thoughts vaguely noted was somewhat transparent, glove and all. That sinister revelation bothered Shade not in the least, though. All that he cared about was the woman who he thought smiled down at him.
“Sharissa . . . ,” he whispered.
She faded, and Shade blacked out.
II
THE LIBRARIES
A THICK, OPPRESSIVE MIST covered the land for as far as could be seen, leaving only shadowy hints as to details. A twisted tree here, a high hill there were the physical extent of what the land of Lochivar deigned to reveal of itself in the foot-wide image floating over the triangular marble pedestal.
The three-foot-high pedestal appeared unremarkable save for four tiny blue gems embedded in the top. Each gem was triangular in shape and pointing as if in the various directions of the compass.
A clawed hand covered finely in both fur and feather reached for the one that would have represented south. As the index finger grazed the stone, the vision shifted as if someone now raced deeper into the murk. Mile upon mile passed by with little more detail to be seen.
The hand withdrew. The scene calmed.
A vague shadow slowly moved from the top of the vision toward the bottom, as if heading toward the one observing the hidden land. As it neared, it grew wider, spreading across the vision and beyond. Individual movements became noticeable. What had at first seemed a single thing now revealed itself to be scores and scores of figures moving side by side, rank after rank.
This time, both hands reached to adjust the image. They touched the western and eastern gems simultaneously.
The vision magnified, focusing on just one part of the marching ranks. Although the thick mist continued to obscure many details, it no longer hid the fact that these were soldiers, grim warriors clad in grey mail and sporting long beards.
In their midst coalesced a larger shape. A rider. A drake warrior clad in black. Standing, he would have been taller than not only any of the humans he commanded, but also most of his own kind.
The hands again adjusted the vision, seeking better focus on the drake.
The image sparked, then dissipated.
There was an intake of breath, then the watcher leaned close to observe the magical device. In the glow of the crystals, his cocked, avian head took on a supernatural look. He resembled a raptor—an eagle—with white feathers that toward the back melted into a mane of golden fur.
“You drew too close,” the voice of Cabe Bedlam said. “You knew he would sense you and act, my lord Gryphon.”
“And in acting, reveal himself to us,” the master of Penacles replied in a rich, deep voice. The Gryphon was, as his name implied, a being resembling a cross between a man and the creature he was named for. He stood a bit taller than Cabe and was somewhat wider of shoulder. His stance was that of a veteran fighter, and indeed, the Gryphon had spent some two centuries as a mercenary and rebel. It had been he who, during the Turning War—when Cabe’s grandfather Nathan, leading the group of wizards called the Dragon Masters, had sought nothing less than to free the entire Dragonrealm—had slain the drake lord ruling Penacles. The people had acclaimed him their new king and he very reluctantly had accepted.
“So, it’s Duke Ravos himself?”
“The Black Dragon’s heir not only leads Lochivar’s fanatical force but also may be the source of the mist’s resurgence. He has that much power.”
In a world ruled by dragons, not all dragons were equal. The Dragon Kings were, in general, the most mighty, but some had groomed successors with the potential to surpass their sires. And even those without the birth markings on their eggs—jagged streaks and other signs that denoted the hatchling as of the highest caste among their kind—occasionally rose to great prominence and infamy.
“He bears some similarity to Toma,” Cabe mused darkly, thinking of his own past.
“But Toma could not become a Dragon King nor, as his sire was, their emperor. He had to settle for being the power behind the throne. An ambition you ended quite smartly, Cabe.”
“He threatened my family,” the wizard replied with a frown. “Even at cost of my own life, I couldn’t let that happen.”
The Gryphon nodded. A creature of magic, it did not matter that his beak only opened and closed as he spoke. He was far more than even his appearance indicated. His origins were across the turbulent sea to the east, on a continent once ruled by the followers of an ancient entity that had fashioned itself as a wolf-god. Even though Cabe had witnessed so many fantastic sights, the Gryphon remained one of the most astonishing.
Of course, there was always Darkhorse, too . . .
The lionbird went on, joining the wizard. “Ravos is a greater danger in at least one aspect. In this age of uncertainty, it would not be above him to seek to claim the imperial throne. The current emperor is not supported by all.”
“Kyl is a fair ruler, eager for peace between humans and drakes.”
“But not all humans and drakes share that desire and not all drakes care for an emperor raised by a wizard. A particular wizard.” When Cabe only frowned again, the Gryphon cocked his head and changed the subject. “The trap did not spring as planned, eh?”
“Something was flawed. I don’t know what, but Shade found a way to free himself. It was probably painful, but he managed.”
A harsh laugh escaped the lord of Penacles. “You feel for his suffering even despite being aware of the danger he may represent.”
“Shade’s been a friend and ally to us.”
“And nearly killed you at least once.” The Gryphon held up a hand to cut off the wizard’s protest. “I know you understand that. You wouldn’t have made this pact with the Blue Dragon if you didn’t.”
As he spoke, the Gryphon guided the wizard out of the chamber. Guards in breastplates and visored helms stood at attention as their leader passed and did not appear at all surprised that Cabe Bedlam walked w
ith him. In truth, they knew as well as their lord that he was probably better capable of protecting himself than they were, but even the sharp senses of the Gryphon could not keep track of everything and with so many weighty matters upon him these days, the lionbird had actually doubled his personal guard, something he had not done since the days when first a young Cabe had been dragged into the land’s dire troubles simply because he was the grandchild of Nathan Bedlam.
The Gryphon walked with the smooth movements his predatory image suggested. Very few realized that the body underneath the flowing red robe was not nearly human. The legs bent back at the knees and the feet were clawed. There were also vestigial wings.
To the wizard, such remarkable things had long become commonplace. Cabe Bedlam himself had unique secrets, some of them shocking. He had once declared to the Gryphon that the price of power appeared to be the loss of normalcy.
A burly, armored figure came marching down the hall from the opposite direction, his boots clattering loudly on the marble floor. The swarthy officer wore a proud black mustache, a red cloak billowed behind him, and a crested helmet rested in the crook of his arm.
Upon reaching the pair, the officer went down on one knee before the Gryphon. “My lord.”
“Rise, General Marner.”
Obeying, the general nodded to the wizard, then immediately said to the Gryphon, “Word comes from the Hell Plains. The forces of the Red Dragon are stirring.”
“Hardly a coincidence, with Black also on the move.” The Gryphon glanced at Cabe. “Still, not the news we like confirmed, eh?”
“Red hardly seems that ambitious,” the spellcaster replied. “He’s only been in power a relatively short time. Black remains the prime mover.”
“Duke Ravos, you mean. He rules as much as his sire, if not more by now.” The Gryphon noticed that the general seemed eager to pass on some other information but had been too polite to interrupt his lord and the great wizard. “What is it, Donal?”
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade Page 2
