Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade

by Richard A. Knaak

  The rest of the horrible story swiftly came out. Cabe’s mind raced even as he sympathized with Melicard’s terrible loss. The Lords of the Dead had left their mark on more than one situation. The necromancers were after something that involved Shade and the Crystal Dragon—and his daughter now, too.

  Despite his fears for Valea, Cabe concentrated first on Talak’s distraught monarch and what this meant to Penacles’s situation. It was not out of any coldness; Erini’s death threatened to only presage the deaths of hundreds unless something could be done to keep the Red Dragon’s army from joining with Black’s before Talak could provide aid.

  “Melicard . . . Your Majesty . . . your loss is one I can only imagine; however—”

  The king glared at the wizard, then nodded. “Yes, of course. She would never forgive me if I let Penacles fall because of my sorrow.” He eyed his queen, so very pale in death. “But what can I do about her?”

  “Allow me.” Cabe gestured and Erini slowly floated from Melicard’s reluctant grasp. The soldiers gaped in awe as their queen seemed to have become a spirit floating among them.

  The mage set her roughly three feet from the ground, then finished his spell.

  A golden casing appeared around her, a casing of amber.

  “A more fitting use of amber than my father chose,” Cabe remarked with some apology. “I’m sure Gwen won’t be bothered by it.”

  “She looks as if she’s sleeping,” Melicard quietly commented.

  The casing and its occupant vanished. The king let out a cry and tried to rise.

  “She’s in Talak again, Your Majesty. For now, I’ve placed her in the old dungeon where no one will find her until we can arrange something more seemly.”

  “The dungeon will suffice. Better that than the children and the populace discovering the truth before I can return. She would understand.” Settling on the ground once more, the stricken monarch brooded. “Darkhorse was supposed to keep an eye on her. He swore. Why didn’t he keep his word?”

  “Darkhorse?” Cabe frowned. “Have you seen him lately?”

  “Not since before we marched.”

  The wizard was worried. That meant no one had seen the eternal for some time, indeed probably at least as long as Valea had likely been missing.

  Another coincidence that isn’t. Things were even darker than Cabe had thought.

  “Wizard.” Melicard drew himself together. “I can’t go on and we both know that. I’ll be a danger to my men rather than a leader. I’m putting General Talcarn in command.” The king indicated a slim, mustached officer, who saluted both his ruler and the renowned spellcaster. “You know him. He’ll do the cause well.”

  “You honor me, Your Majesty.” The general clearly did not like any praise, considering the circumstances.

  “I do you right. Now get the men going. Leave me my personal guard.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Cabe did not like leaving the king and said so. “I should return with you. The Lords might try again.”

  Melicard shook his head. “They accomplished what they desired. I . . . I see it now.”

  After a moment’s consideration, the wizard had to agree. More and more, the necromancers’ grand design was becoming apparent. Sow chaos among all those who could most stand in their path. Use the ambition of certain Dragon Kings—although what they had dangled before the Black Dragon, Cabe did not know—and manipulate the one being they most feared.

  Shade.

  No one knew the warlock better than the Lords of the Dead, who had also risen from Vraad stock. Cabe had encountered them in the past and knew the awful truth about them, that they existed not alive, not dead, but in some horrific state he could not define.

  And if they succeeded, the world they would create of the Dragonrealm would be one not even Dragon Kings nor wizards would be able to survive.

  As if to emphasize that point, Gwen suddenly touched his thoughts. Cabe! We need you! Come quickly!

  “As you wish, Melicard. It seems I’m summoned elsewhere, anyway.” As he prepared to depart, the wizard said, “My sincerest condolences. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose my wife.”

  “I pray you never have to learn.”

  There was nothing more to say. Melicard and the army vanished.

  Cabe stood in the palace at Penacles. Gwen and Troia—and the Gryphon—awaited his arrival. The sight of the Gryphon conscious, if barely, encouraged Cabe for the first time.

  “C-Cabe,” the Gryphon managed to say. “The Black Dragon himself has withdrawn from the battle at this time and General Marner is keeping the Lochivarites at bay. We have a momentary reprieve, it seems. How fare things elsewhere?”

  “Not good. Erini is dead.”

  Even the Gryphon evinced tremendous shock at this. Gwen and Troia looked stricken.

  “Those poor children!” the Lady of the Amber cried. “And Melicard! What of him?”

  The more Cabe relayed, the more horrified they became. Having gone through the same emotions, he could sympathize.

  The Gryphon inhaled deeply. He was obviously still having trouble remaining conscious.

  “So. Penacles stands alone . . . with her erstwhile allies the Bedlams, of course. Your son has chosen the Green Dragon and his daughter over us, but your daughter . . .”

  The wizard forced his gaze to remain steady as he faced his wife. “There’s more . . . about Valea.”

  “Oh . . . no . . . Cabe! She’s not—”

  He raised a calming hand. “No! She was still well and alive when I saw her a short time ago but she’s with Shade and the Crystal Dragon.”

  The Lady of the Amber looked aghast. “And you call that safe?”

  “Shade will not harm her. He will protect her.”

  “Against a Dragon King? Against that Dragon King?” She shook her head. “And if they’re already both prisoners—”

  “Shade is no prisoner. I could see that.” Cabe was certain of the truth of his words. Shade and the Crystal Dragon had been working together. Could Shade know?

  Gwen did not take solace in his observation. “Either way, she is in incredible danger!”

  The Gryphon leaned on Troia. “Lady Gwen. Cabe. If you must go . . . go after your daughter, we certainly understand.”

  A part of the wizard wanted to go running in search of Valea, and Cabe knew that his wife felt the same, but they also knew that the odds of Penacles surviving long once the second army closed from the north were minimal.

  “We will not abandon Penacles,” the enchantress declared firmly, although her eyes spoke of her worry for her child.

  Cabe nodded his agreement, adding, “And if we want to be any aid to the City of Knowledge, I’ve got to try to do something to slow down the Red Dragon’s forces until Talak can catch them.”

  The Gryphon stirred, the avian/human eyes filling with interest. “What do you hope to do?”

  The wizard exhaled. “Make use of Wenslis’s foul weather before the Red Dragon can finish passing through.”

  “You may stir the Storm Dragon.”

  “A chance I have to take.”

  The wind suddenly picked up. As it did, darkness built up on the southeastern horizon.

  “He’s begun again,” Gwen stated flatly, not having to explain whom she meant. “He knows the Gryphon is awake now. This time, he’ll strike much harder.”

  “We can thank my lovely bride for my timely revival,” the lionbird remarked, standing on his own now. “Between her words of our family and her claws in my side, I had no choice but to wake.” The lord of Penacles looked to the growing darkness. “Throw what he may at us, the Black Dragon will find Penacles standing firm. I swear it.”

  A horn sounded. Somewhere, a dragon roared.

  Cabe and Gwen hugged.

  “Protect yourself,” she whispered, punctuating her words with a kiss.

  He vanished while she still held him.

  AT FIRST, it almost seemed as if he had landed in the wrong
place. No tempest raged. The sky was barely overcast, hints of sun for the first time in months shining through.

  If the Storm Dragon is not awake, then one of his children has seized the reins of control. Either bodes ill.

  Cabe had materialized a day’s walk into Wenslis and was grateful to find that the drake army had not yet reached this point. Still, he could sense that they were not far away, perhaps just over the horizon. That meant that the scouts would be even nearer, which, in turn, meant that the wizard had to hurry.

  The storms might have ceased, but the ground was still very much saturated. Cabe drew the water together, then forced it into the ground until the land for some distance looked as dry as any other kingdom. He did so with caution, hoping not to bring any attention on himself.

  That done, the wizard moved a little deeper into Wenslis. There he noted the first scout, a single red drake warrior astride a scaly mount. The drake peered around, but thanks to a simple shunning spell, did not see or sense him. The rider paused a moment more, then turned his hissing beast around and headed north again.

  Cabe went to work on the landscape. This time, he calculated the path of the column and then gathered the water in even greater amounts beneath the surface. At the same time, the dirt replaced the volume of water shifted to this point.

  Both traps were set. With luck, they would cause some consternation, some slowing.

  He was no longer alone.

  The wizard spun around, his spell already cast.

  His target had vanished.

  Simultaneously, Cabe noted figures appearing on both his right and left. With little time to recast, he simply sent two spheres of physical force at them.

  The sphere shooting to the left barreled over a drake warrior, but not a crimson one. This drake was black, as was the other when Cabe turned in that direction.

  Only at the last did he realize that he had been purposely distracted.

  The spell burst before his eyes, both blinding and stunning him. Another buffeted his head from the back.

  The master wizard dropped to his knees. He drew strength for a spell to shield him until his senses better returned, but before he could finish, something covered his mouth and nose. With his air already knocked from him, Cabe was immediately forced to gasp for breath.

  He was struck from behind again and crashed to the ground.

  Although barely conscious, he still sensed the sudden nearness of his true foe. There was a familiarity about the magical signature and even as he started to black out, Cabe Bedlam understood why his opponent had played him so well.

  “You could’ve made this easier, Father,” Aurim’s voice said just as the darkness closed around Cabe.

  XIX

  BEYOND THE TEAR

  IT WAS AND was not the same world.

  Shade eyed a sun that to his thoughts did not move as a sun should. They had been on the other side of the tear for at least four hours and the burning orb still hung in the same place.

  Strong, sharp mountain peaks rose to their right. Snow capped the tallest. They were presaged by the rocky hills through which the pair had already wended their way. The hills made only the mountains ahead visible; if there was any town or other settlement, they would probably not see it until they were almost upon it.

  “We are in a sliver.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “My people originated in a place called Nimth. We considered it the world. That did not prevent us from ruining it through the misuse of our tremendous power.”

  She nodded. “My father told me some of that. It sounded like an awful place.”

  “Nimth still exists, though, fortunately, it’s sealed off from the true world. As a fine slap to our egos, we discovered that our grand realm was nothing more than a thin layer of reality cut from what we now call the Dragonrealm. Like the places the Quel, the Seekers—every other race—originated from, Nimth was but an alchemist’s laboratory, created by the founding race to raise a potential successor.”

  “And this . . .” The enchantress indicated the landscape. “This is another of those?”

  The hooded spellcaster frowned. “No. I think this place has another particular purpose. No wonder I could never find the tower. It was in front of me all the time, just not.”

  Talk of Nimth brought back a subject that he had tried to forget since their arrival: the dread specter that had briefly animated the Dragon King’s skeleton. Shade shivered. Other than his father, it had probably been the last creature that he would have ever wanted to see again.

  Valea noticed his mood. “You refused to tell me what that thing out there was. Will you now?”

  The warlock shrugged. Why not? She must learn all the awful truth about you, if you hope to finally have her see sense and forget her storybook dreams . . .

  “That was my brother.”

  It said something of her own upbringing that she did not look at him as if he were mad. She was willing to listen.

  “That was Reegan. A part of his ka, that is. The Lords of the Dead must have held on to it at all costs, even when their power was at its weakest. They must have held on to it just for me one day.”

  “Reegan, your brother?”

  “The eldest. The heir. My dear father reborn, but without the subtlety. Also, the first in the line of the Dragon Emperors.”

  Now she started. “I’d forgotten that you said the first Dragon Kings were your brothers.”

  “They lost their memories when they transformed, which was perhaps for the best. I know they lost them, because I sought out a couple who had once been . . . cordial with me, at least. They tried to eat me, which was extreme even for them.” Shade attempted to peer over the next hill but could only see the mountains, which seemed to be approaching faster than their pace warranted. And yet, the sun still does not move.

  “Horrible! But Reegan was himself when he came for you!”

  “Apparently death gave him that much back, though it did nothing good for his temper.”

  A shadow passed over them. Even though both looked up quickly, neither could see any sign of what had made that shadow.

  “Reegan,” Valea muttered.

  “No. I thought it was him but evidently there was something else nearby. It may explain why we’ve yet to find the drake lord.”

  “And Darkhorse.” She briefly closed her eyes. “I don’t sense it anywhere. What could it be?”

  “A guardian, per—per—” Shade lost focus. He stumbled toward Valea.

  As she caught him, he heard a sharp inhalation from her. With effort, Shade brought his hand into view.

  It was faded.

  “Your face!” Valea said. “It’s—I can barely make it out!”

  Struggling, the sorcerer pulled the medallion free.

  The stones were black.

  Pulling away from Valea, Shade stared in horror at the Crystal Dragon’s creation. There was not even the least trace of magic left in it, something that had not happened during the prior troubles with the talisman.

  She stepped close. “Is there anything you can do?”

  “The stones have been corrupted. Something has altered their very essence!” He glanced to the sky, where the sun still hung in the same place. “It must be because of whatever passed over us.” A wave of pain washed over him, preventing Shade from saying more.

  “Let me help you!” Valea guided him to a rock, where he sat.

  Shade concentrated. Not only did he need to literally keep himself together, but a part of his soul felt as if it was turning in a direction he did not like. The sorcerer fought down an urge to strike out at Valea for being of no use to him in repairing the damned medallion.

  The foul urge faded while at the same time his hand solidified. Shade did not bother to ask the enchantress about his face, for all he had to do was look at her to see that his features were once again an accursed blur.

  “I’m so sorry.” Valea touched his arm.

  “I will . . . survive . . . I
always do . . .” Not true! he reminded himself. You usually die at some point!

  Still, he kept up the facade of confidence. Rising, he pressed on, Valea at his side.

  The mountains continued to move toward them—that was the best way Shade could describe the sensation—at an almost frantic pace. What had once been on the horizon now loomed over them.

  And the accursed sun remained where it was . . . until, without warning, they found themselves in the midst of night.

  The enchantress bumped against him. “What just happened?”

  “Something not at all surprising, considering this place,” he replied.

  Something moved at the edge of his senses. Despite that, he recognized it all too well.

  “He entered with us!” Shade shouted. “Hurry!”

  Relying on memory alone, he pulled her toward a ravine. It was a great risk, but he relied on his knowledge of Reegan’s hunting pattern. Reegan was a creature of habit, even as a spirit. He had stalked his prey, staying beyond their touch until just the right moment. The founders’ odd world had finally given him just that.

  A rumble from the direction from which they had come warned him of his brother’s attack just before it happened. Dirt and rock came tumbling toward them, made the worse by the fact that they could barely see any of the avalanche.

  “Take my hand!” ordered Valea, surprising Shade enough that he obeyed without thinking.

  He felt a surge of energy from her as she fed her own efforts into his. Understanding and appreciating her trust, Shade cast.

  A blue wall of energy spread out before them. It not only held the avalanche at bay, but its magical illumination also brought into terrible focus the cause of that avalanche.

  The shimmering blue behemoth still resembled the most terrible of dragons, but this time one of flesh. Gold hints radiated through the blue energy.

  Little brother . . .

  Shade did not react. He felt a tensing from Valea and knew that she, too, had heard the voice.

  “You are dead and gone, Reegan!” he cried to the phantasm. “As dead as all our kind!” Myself as well, Shade added to himself. “Begone!”