Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade

by Richard A. Knaak

  The soldier smiled, a sickly display. Up close, it was apparent that his eyes stared sightlessly. “No one less than I for you, Duke Ravos.”

  “Lady Kadaria.” The drake dismounted. “In the flesh, ssso to speak.”

  The soldier laughed as Ravos had heard Kadaria laugh. It was an unsettling sound even to his ears, and more so coming from the walking corpse. “Are you ready?”

  “My sire just informed me that his glory was about to be restored,” Ravos said mockingly. “He will be in for a surprise.”

  “So he will.” The necromancer indicated a path to the left. “We go this way.”

  The drake eyed his companion. “Why this form?”

  She looked down at it. “I had in mind it might be useful should either the Gryphon, his mate, or one of the Bedlams step just outside Penacles’s walls, but it was also meant to garner information and sow disinformation among the defenders. Your warriors would have found the going even harder if not for my efforts.”

  “How gratifying, but the crushing of Penacles can wait until I am king, as you promised.”

  The undead smile spread wider. “Duke Ravos will sit upon the throne in Lochivar.”

  Ravos nodded. He had a trick in mind should the necromancers betray him, but Kadaria’s declaration somehow had a ring of truth to it. “Will you ride with me or abandon this body and drift away?”

  “I will let the body guide you. I myself will meet you ahead.”

  I will let the body guide you. Ravos did not care that an empty shell would be his temporary companion. He would travel with the shambling corpses of every dead fighter on the battlefield if that was what it would take to achieve the throne. “How long will it take?”

  “Less time than you think.”

  A blink hole opened up before the corpse. It was just wide enough to admit Ravos and his mount.

  Before urging his mount forward, the drake asked, “Where are we heading?”

  “The Hell Plains.”

  “How appropriate.” Still Ravos did not urge the beast on. “Lead on, then.”

  The corpse turned and stepped through. Duke Ravos hissed, realizing that a dead human crossing into the blink hole did not mean the way was safe for a living drake. Yet, he saw no reason to distrust the necromancer that far.

  Visions of himself seated on the throne of Lochivar finally urging him on, Ravos rode into the blink hole.

  CABE STIRRED. His first conscious thoughts concerned the revelation that his son—Aurim—had been behind the attack.

  His second thought concerned the fact that he was bound tight by strong bonds of pure energy.

  “It was necessary to do it, Father.” As Cabe raised his head, Aurim, clad in a dark blue wizard’s robe, appeared before him. The long, pure golden hair, the result of a childhood casting that even Aurim could apparently never correct, marked by the swathe of silver was a hint of just how powerful a wizard the younger Bedlam was. Both father and son bore great streaks of silver, as opposed to thinner, far finer lines in the hair of less adept spellcasters.

  Aurim favored his mother in certain features and those combined with Cabe’s coarser ones had given him a face something akin to the heroes of legendary sagas. However, Aurim had had a less-than-spectacular experience with spellcasting most of his life and had for a time become the puppet of others because of his uncertainties.

  All that had appeared to have ended, though. Here was Cabe’s son very much in command.

  “How long have I been out?”

  Aurim looked a bit guilty. “Several hours. I didn’t mean to strike you so hard. I just meant to stun you long enough to get you away.”

  “Several hours—?” Cabe looked aghast as he stared at the sun. “That would make this the next morning!”

  His son looked even guiltier. “I’m very sorry. It had to be done, though.”

  “What are you up to, Aurim? Why is there a need to do this?”

  “Becaussse I am involved.”

  The scents of the forest wafted toward Cabe. The voice alone had been sufficient, though, for the speaker had once been a good friend in the elder Bedlam’s younger days.

  “Of course,” the wizard remarked with some sarcasm. “Where would my son be but in the company of the lord of Dagora Forest and his daughter?”

  “Yssa is not here,” Aurim snapped. “Don’t throw her in this situation.”

  “Be calm,” the Green Dragon told Cabe’s son. “Your father hasss much reason for his feelings toward anything and anyone related to me.”

  The drake lord’s scale armor was shaded like the green of the forest and he lacked part of an arm, the result of an affair that had caused the death of the Gryphon’s second, Toos, and nearly slain a young Kyl. Discovery of that betrayal, a betrayal that Cabe had only recently admitted to the Gryphon himself, had made the wizard break off all communication with the Dragon King.

  Of course, that was before Aurim had met and fallen for a woman who turned out to be the half-human child of a drake.

  Cabe knew that he was not entirely in the right concerning the latter problem, but there was no question in his mind as to his decision concerning the Green Dragon himself. Accepting Aurim’s relationship with the daughter would, to the master wizard, be the first step toward forgiving the Dragon King. Cabe could not do that, not yet.

  “I took care of his traps,” Aurim commented to the drake lord. “The path is clear for them.”

  Cabe could not believe what he was hearing. “You removed my traps?”

  “It would’ve taken too long to explain everything to you, Father. You came along just at the wrong moment.”

  “The wrong moment for what?”

  Aurim and the Green Dragon chose that moment to look back. There, the two black drakes appeared. They looked weary but satisfied.

  “All isss in readiness,” reported one. “They’re nearly upon usss.”

  The wizard looked to his son. “You’ve betrayed Penacles to the Black Dragon?” He turned his ire toward the Dragon King. “And you! Allied with that foul beast, too?”

  “All is not what you think,” Aurim said insistently with growing frustration. To the Green Dragon, he asked, “Where is he? I don’t think Father will understand unless he’s here, too!”

  “I sense him coming now. I will direct him here.”

  Cabe frowned, wondering who they might be speaking of. Duke Ravos? It made terrible sense.

  However, the figure who materialized a moment later was not the heir to Lochivar. Rather it was a youth with a swarthy but elven appearance whom the wizard knew as well as if he were his own son.

  Kyl, emperor of all drakes, stared wide-eyed at Cabe. “What’s he doing here—and bound?”

  “He needs to understand first.” Aurim indicated the two black drakes. “Everything, and quickly!”

  The young emperor looked abashed. “We are not serving ourselves well here. First I made the mistake of trying to keep Valea from finding out the truth and the Green Dragon from knowing that she was in Kivan Grath.”

  “An unnecesssary deed,” the lord of the Dagora Forest said insistently, as if the two had had this conversation before.

  The emperor went on anxiously. “Be that as it may, now Master Bedlam is tied up in an unseemly fashion.”

  “He was rearranging the landscape and putting our plans in jeopardy,” Cabe’s son explained. “There was no time to try to make him understand. Once he knew that Lord Green was involved, there would have been no convincing him in time!”

  The Green Dragon looked beyond the party. “And time isss no longer ours! They come!”

  Cabe also sensed the approach. “The Red Dragon’s army? So fast?”

  “They were encouraged to travel faster by someone they think was the Storm Dragon’s representative,” Kyl admitted. “Accompanied by supposed agents of the Black Dragon.” He indicated the two other drakes.

  “Loyal warriors of mine,” the Green Dragon said. “Willing to be bespelled over and over un
til their disguises could not be penetrated by almost any means. In fact, their appearance will remain so until I am able to deal with them.”

  Aurim momentarily shut his eyes. “Their pace is perfect.”

  “Is everything in readiness?” asked Kyl.

  Cabe looked at his captors. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

  His son helped him up. Without preamble, Aurim removed the magical bonds. “At this point, it might be better for you to just watch it all come together.”

  There was pride in his voice, indicating that he was in great part responsible for whatever was about to happen. Cabe followed his gaze.

  The first evidence of the drake army appeared, drake warriors astride their fearsome mounts. They seemed to be moving at a much faster pace than normal.

  And behind them rushed ranks of hulking, shelled warriors that from a distance might have passed for the burrowing Quel of the Legar Peninsula. However, anyone unfortunate enough to be closer would have seen that these warriors had beaks like that of a turtle, though sharper. Any resemblance to a turtle beyond the shell and beak was minimal. Cabe had never seen their like but knew that there were remnants of other ancient races hidden here and there in the Dragonrealm, generally in service to whatever drake lord controlled their territory.

  “The Jaruu,” the Green Dragon said. “The Red Dragon must focus hard to keep so many under control.”

  Cabe was no longer concerned with the Jaruu; the thought of the Quel reminded him of the encounter with his daughter, Shade, and the Crystal Dragon. “Aurim! Your sister—”

  “Not now, Father!” Aurim concentrated harder. “They need to be farther ahead before we strike,” he told Kyl and the Green Dragon. “Otherwise, we risk having—”

  Warning horns blared from the direction of the Red Dragon’s force. Cabe saw the consternation on not only his son’s face but those of the four drakes.

  And suddenly, there stood another army facing the Red Dragon’s. Most wore the forest green of the Dragon King standing next to the master wizard. They consisted mainly of humans and elves, with drake warriors guiding their efforts.

  However, in addition to troops loyal to the Dagora Forest’s lord, there were also those bearing the gold standard of the emperor.

  Even Cabe was impressed. Aurim had coordinated a spell masking the presence of an entire army, probably for days.

  “What did you do?” demanded Kyl of Aurim. “You just sssaid it wasss too sssoon!”

  “I didn’t do anything! Someone’s usurped the shielding spell!”

  The Red Dragon’s army was obviously meant to be caught unaware. Now, though, they had the opportunity to ready themselves. What would have been a rout now had the potential to be a long-drawn, bloody conflict for both sides.

  But now there was no other choice. The Green Dragon seized one of the two disguised warriors by the shoulder. “Sssee to the right flank! Sssend word to Zeen that he must push farther ahead!”

  “Zeen?” Cabe was startled. He knew that name. “Your heir is out here, too? He’s only come of age!”

  “He isss a drake warrior and knowsss his duty! And if Penacles falls, there will be nothing stopping the collapssse of everything elssse! Blue will probably join them then, asss will the confederation in the northwessst! We mussst prevent the City of Knowledge’s sacking.”

  As if to accent that, a dragon roared. As that happened, several gaunt, horrific figures rose from the marshy soil.

  Cabe was the first to recognize them for what they were. “Those are corpses!” He shook his head. “They must be the dead lost to the Storm Dragon’s magic over the centuries! Someone knew your plan! These must’ve been gathered just for this!”

  “The Storm Dragon doesn’t deal in such magic, does he?” asked Aurim.

  “No, but the Lords of the Dead do. The same power behind Erini’s death!”

  Only after the wizard spoke did he realize that he had never had the chance to tell the others what happened. Aurim and the drakes looked even more consternated.

  “When—” The Dragon King halted. “Never mind! It explainsss much that hasss been going on! The Lords! Yes, this smells of their foulness!”

  “Queen Erini . . . dead . . .” Aurim shivered. His expression hardened. “Dead.”

  He stretched forth his hands. The sky rumbled.

  From the overcast sky dropped a downpour that slammed into the decaying figures quickly becoming the foremost ranks of the Red Dragon’s army. Bone and rotting flesh were crushed under the torrent, which only fell upon the area where the undead stood.

  The effort left Aurim gasping but smiling.

  The smile faded as the shattered pieces flew back together.

  Cabe growled. “Never let it be said that the Lords let anything be done easily.”

  The undead began to march on the defenders. Their weapons were rusted, even broken, but foes who could not be slain by mortal means were much to be feared.

  “They waited for this,” Cabe said. “Everything is part of their plot. Penacles, the Black Dragon, the Red Dragon, Erini and Melicard—all of it is part of their plot.”

  “But for what?” demanded Kyl.

  “For Shade . . .” The wizard did not add his other concerns, especially about the tower that he knew Shade searched for.

  Aurim leaned toward the impending battle. “Those monstrosities will rip our fighters apart! I can’t let that happen!”

  Before anyone could stop him, the younger Bedlam vanished.

  Cabe did not have to ask where his son had gone. Aurim would be in the thick of the battle.

  The elder Bedlam felt that he had no choice. He left the army in the hands—hand—of the Green Dragon, trusting the drake lord to stay true in this struggle.

  As he appeared before the oncoming fiends, streams of water weeds ensnared the limbs of the first undead. This proved a more effective measure than the downpour, since the ruined corpses were unable to simply leave their legs behind.

  Aurim was not far away, the other wizard struggling to stand straight. How he could cast these spells after having managed to shield an army was testament to the power that flowed through his blood. Cabe was both proud and fearful. Aurim had a reckless streak.

  “That should hold them for the moment,” Aurim gasped. “Now to send them back to their rest—”

  The weeds binding the corpses suddenly blackened. They released their grips and crumbled, dry and empty of life despite the lush, marshy landscape.

  “Remember what I said about the Lords,” Cabe commented, coming up next to his son.

  Aurim glanced at him. “I never wanted anything to come between us, Father.”

  “Let’s worry about lesser matters first, like these poor souls,” Cabe replied, touching the lines of force with his mind and offering his power alongside his son’s.

  Aurim smiled weakly. “Lead the way.”

  The Bedlams turned to face the shambling horrors.

  ON A LOW HILL beyond the view of both armies, three shadows observed the proceedings. The center shadow, Zorane, nodded as the wizards attacked the undead again.

  That should do just fine, he said to the others. The Bedlams, father and son, should be entertained long enough for all to come to fruition.

  A good thing, snarled the shadow to his left. This has drained us of precious power! Kadaria better be certain of all of this!

  Zorane sneered. Or what? What, Lucivan? Will you be the one to confront Kadaria? You’ve had the chance to present your own plan . . .

  The other necromancer grew silent. There was no arguing with Kadaria’s plan. Everything had happened just as she devised, even down to the death of the Talakian queen and the subsequent loss of the king’s expert leadership for the effort against the Black Dragon.

  Everyone is out of balance, Zorane said, pleased even if the plan had not been his. He could already imagine himself once more the dashing sorcerer that he had once been. The Lords of the Dead would be the powerful Vraad that
they should be, that they had imagined themselves to be until Shade had revealed to them their horrific state.

  And this world, the world of the founders—the true ancestors of the Vraad—would at last see masters who would forever control it.

  Kadaria is waiting, Zorane told the others. Our destiny is waiting.

  The shadows vanished.

  IN THE WAKE of the trio’s departure, a subtle change took place near where they had stood. The hill swelled. The foliage grew stronger. There was a hint of movement, of something like a tiny tremor as if the ground was breathing.

  The swelling continued, spreading along a path to the southeast.

  A path leading to the battlefield.

  XXI

  THE TOWER

  THERE COULD BE no mistaking it. The tower dominated the landscape before them, even the much taller, sharper peaks behind it. It was smooth, sleek, and entirely of the same composition as the stone.

  But the stone was nothing compared to the tower. The iridescence was almost blinding. It stunned the senses. Shade was tempted to put a hand toward it, as if by doing so he could touch the swirling array of golds, reds, pinks, and other colors that made even the finest pearl seem but a mockery of beauty. It was as if the tower existed in multiple states.

  Tearing his gaze from the iridescence, Shade looked up at the top. A rounded crown with five horizontal, jutting points topped the ancient edifice. Staring at those points, the sorcerer could not help but think that they served some function.

  They could not see the bottom of the tower; that was still hidden by the hill ahead. Shade fought back the urge to rush toward the tower, aware that it could not be so simple a journey, even as near as the building appeared.

  “Is that it?” breathed Valea. “Is that what you were seeking?”

  “Yes . . . I think.” Now that he faced it, Shade wondered what awaited him inside. Would it be the release from his curse that he hoped for?

  “What is that place?” demanded Darkhorse.

  “It is where the founders set into motion the succession of races to follow them. It is where they became the land itself.”