“Very true . . . ssstill, we will take the victory, eh?”
“Oh, yes, we will.” The wizard glanced toward his son. “I need to take him to his mother. He can leave once she’s seen him again, if he chooses.”
The drake lord gestured toward Aurim with his maimed limb. “Thisss wasss not asss I intended. Their choice wasss their own.” The Green Dragon hissed. “Asss for the sssituation between you and me . . .”
Cabe had no desire to speak of this now. “One thing at a time.”
“Asss you sssay. One thing at a time.” The Dragon King gazed at his army. “Forgive me. It would be bessst if I inform my emperor, then sssee to the end of thisss . . . what little there isss left, that isss.”
The drake lord transformed again, then took to the sky. Cabe watched him fly toward the rout, then returned to Aurim. Wrapping his arms around the younger Bedlam, Cabe murmured, “Now, if we could just find your sister . . .”
The pair vanished, reappearing in the palace. Gwen sensed his presence and turned.
She stared at Aurim, then rushed to his side. He opened his eyes just as she reached him.
“Mother?” Aurim’s eyes darted around. “Penacles?”
“For now,” Cabe interjected. “Afterward, you go where you please.”
The Gryphon chose that moment to join them, Troia at his side. He still looked weak, but not as much as Cabe would have thought. “Lochivar is in full retreat and the mists are fading. While I am very happy about this turn, do either of you have an explanation?”
Cabe repeated what he and the Green Dragon had discussed. The Gryphon cocked his head as he listened.
“I will inform General Marner. If the Black Dragon is dead or at least incapacitated . . .” The lionbird let out a short squawk. “Best not to expect too much. We shall see what happens.”
A massive and very welcome form materialized with a dramatic rumble of thunder in the center of the chamber. Darkhorse looked around. “Ahh! At last! Here you all are!”
But as welcome as the eternal’s arrival was, for Cabe and Gwen the greater joy was for Darkhorse’s passenger. Valea, looking very drawn, managed to dismount without the stallion’s aid. She looked at her family, brightened briefly at her brother’s presence, then stared longest at Cabe.
Valea fell into his arms. The enchantress planted her head in his chest and shook.
“Oh, Father . . . ,” she whispered. “Oh, Father . . .”
XXIX
BEYOND THE TOWER
CABE AND THE GRYPHON surveyed both fronts for more than a week, but the routs of the two Dragon Kings’ armies appeared real. Talak’s forces arrived in time to join with the Green Dragon’s to push Red’s servants deep into the Hell Plains. They did not pursue farther but kept their presence there long enough to make certain that the lord of the fiery realm would understand the foolhardiness of trying to advance again . . . at least for now.
Little word had come from Melicard himself, but reports filtered in that when the king was not with his children, he spent much of his time in the lower reaches of the palace. Thus far, Melicard had sent no word to the wizard concerning removing the amber shell around his queen’s body. Cabe was concerned about the king but held his counsel for now.
With the retreat of the Black Dragon’s followers, General Marner led Penacles’s military a day’s march into Lochivar. The Grey Mists continued to fade, making it safe for the Gryphon’s army to enter.
Three days after that, a party led by a drake named Karkus—a son of the Black Dragon not known by the Gryphon to be any heir to Lochivar’s lord—came representing the southeastern realm.
“Very polite he was,” Marner informed his master later. “Very eager to show that all aggressions between his sire and us were at an end. He’s made some heavy promises, which he backed up with written words.”
Those promises included more security against Lochivar than they had gained in all the two centuries of the Gryphon’s rule. It added fuel to Cabe’s theory that something had happened to the drake lord, but not death.
“We shall find out eventually what happened to the Black Dragon,” the lionbird said to the wizard upon the latter’s return more than a week later to Penacles. “But for now, I am pleased with the peace.”
“Let’s hope that it lasts a little longer than the previous one,” Cabe replied. He did not bring up something else bothering him, something having to do with a change the mage felt in the very land itself. Cabe could not describe that change save that the Dragonrealm just felt different. His daughter knew something, but she had thus far kept quiet.
“And speaking of peace, how fares your family?”
The wizard looked less pleased. “Gwen’s happy with Aurim’s visit. We’ve begun talking about our other situations.” The Gryphon was still unaware of some of the true reasons for the differences between father and son, for which Cabe was grateful. “He’s returned to the Dagora Forest, but he’ll be back.”
“With her?” the Gryphon asked, referring to the Green Dragon’s daughter.
“Very likely.” It was not a situation that Cabe wished to discuss any further and his tone gave hint of that.
The Gryphon nodded his understanding, then broached another subject. “And your daughter?”
It was another subject better left for later, but the lord of Penacles deserved an answer in this case. “Valea knows more than she’s told us. I’m hoping that she’ll open up to us rather than do something foolish.”
“You hope.”
Cabe exhaled. “I can only hope.”
“Where is she now? Has she returned to Kivan Grath?” The Dragon Emperor had sent apologies and gifts to Valea for the troubles he had caused her and had invited her to visit with him and his sister to make amends.
“No. Kyl’s going to have to suffer some guilt for a while longer, apparently. Actually, Valea asked to visit her brother. We thought it good for her. Keep her mind off of him.”
The Gryphon blinked. “And what do we do about ‘him’? What do we do about Shade?”
The wizard considered carefully. From what he gathered, Shade had done much to be praised for.
And yet . . . “We do what we must. We do what we must.”
The lionbird nodded grimly.
DARKHORSE RACED THROUGH the woods, crossing distances impossible for any mortal steed. Astride him, Valea let the wind cool her face as she rode. She was grateful for the shadow steed’s presence; at this time, the enchantress needed his companionship. Her brother would have also been of great comfort but they were far, far from the Dagora Forest.
She hated having lied to her parents. They thought Valea would be visiting Aurim. By the time they found out, she would be far from their senses. Matters were too critical in her mind to hesitate. She had to find him.
And that was why she was in the hills far beyond northwest Esedi.
This time Valea was ready for them. She had cast several spells to triangulate their location and had cast others to take into account whatever spells they had to protect themselves. Valea was taking no chances.
She sensed something. “Darkhorse. Turn north.”
He obeyed without question. When she had revealed the truth about her trip, the eternal had agreed to carry Valea. He was the only one she could trust to follow this through with her.
“Not much farther,” the enchantress whispered to her companion. “Slow your pace . . .”
Darkhorse obeyed again.
SHADE TOOK a deep breath as he paused in his search. The Ice Dragon’s shattered citadel had revealed more than a few intriguing secrets, but none thus far that seemed of help in his desperate quest.
He had been ready to avoid any repeat of the incident with whatever ghoulish guardians might remain, but his brother had evidently dealt with that problem thoroughly during their previous visit. That gave Shade more time to fruitlessly rummage among the ice-and-snow-covered remnants of the dead drake lord’s arcane collection.
Nothing. N
othing remains. If the Ice Dragon had had any artifact or tome relating to a course that might save Shade, it had been either taken long ago, or buried or destroyed in the collapse.
The clouds formed by his breathing mocked him, for they hinted at life when he had none. There had been no new periods of darkness, but the sorcerer was certain that they would return with more frequency as time went on. Better that he had somehow managed to thrust Valea out of the pocket world and stayed behind, forever trapped.
The enchantress’s graceful face formed in his thoughts. Shade tried in vain to dismiss it. There had been a fleeting hope during the quest that there might be more to his existence than constantly trying to save himself while battling the dual sides of his nature.
I should have known better. Now he had only replaced one face with another.
Shade glanced down at a piece of ice. In it, he caught the murky reflection of his indistinct countenance. That stirred him anew to his search. There was still a buried stairwell that he thought did not look like the work of drakes, but rather something older. Shade had ignored it for easier areas first.
There had been no physical change in the land, not that he had expected there to be, but Shade could sense a difference and suspected that other spellcasters, such as Cabe Bedlam, also did. Shade believed that difference to be for the better, but time would tell.
Pain wracked him again. He doubled over. His will was strong, but it still took several seconds before the trouble subsided even a little.
A hand gripped his shoulder and a voice whispered, “I’m here. Breathe easy . . .”
The pain faded almost immediately. Shade eyed his gloved hands, as solid as those of any normal creature.
And in the ice, the hooded sorcerer now saw his face defined. More important, he saw that other face a short distance behind his.
Shade looked up at Valea, her expression a cross between concern, relief, and something deeper.
“I tracked Edrin and his brother down, just as I knew you would,” she explained. “Darkhorse helped me. I made them tell me what they told you about where other elements of the founders might be located. Then I sent Darkhorse one direction and I chose the other.” Valea smiled. “The one I was certain was the right direction.”
“Valea.”
The enchantress moved her hand to his cheek. “We’ll find some answer, Gerrod. Together.”
Shade rose hesitantly. He had never felt so off-balance in a thousand lifetimes. Yet, he also felt more in balance in another, more immediate manner and knew that it was because of the woman before him. Shade had no cure, but suddenly, he did have hope again.
“Together . . . ,” he whispered, surprising himself with such a response.
Valea leaned close and kissed him. To his surprise, Shade did not retreat.
Reluctantly separating from Shade, she asked, “Where do we begin?”
Refocusing, he turned and pointed toward the buried steps. As he did, Valea took his other hand in hers.
Rather than pull away, Shade clutched it tighter and led her forward.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank all those that helped make this story happen: My family, the crew at Gallery—including but not limited to my editors Ed Schlesinger and Megan McKeever, deputy publisher Anthony Ziccardi, editorial assistant Julia Fincher—my agent Don Maass, and fantastic Brit artist Jon Sullivan. I apologize to others I’ve not mentioned by name, but I hope they know their efforts are very much appreciated. As ever, I’d also like to thank the fans, who, more than anyone, enabled the world of the Dragonrealm to continue for so long. I hope we can continue to look forward to many adventures!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
RICHARD A. KNAAK is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of The Legend of Huma, World of Warcraft: Wolfheart, and more than forty other novels and numerous short stories, including works in such series as World of Warcraft, Diablo, Dragonlance, Age of Conan, and his own Dragonrealm. He has scripted a number of Warcraft manga with Tokyopop, such as the top-selling Sunwell trilogy, and has also written background material for games. His works have been published worldwide in many languages.
In addition to the three volumes in the Legends of the Dragonrealm series, his most recent releases include Wolfheart (the latest in the bestselling World of Warcraft series), the graphic novel series Rune Keepers, and Dragon Mound, the first in his Knight in Shadow trilogy. He is presently at work on several other projects, among them Wake of the Wyrm, the sequel to Dragon Mound.
Currently splitting his time between Chicago and Arkansas, he can be reached through his website: www.richardaknaak.com. While he is unable to respond to every e-mail, he does read them. Join his mailing list for e-announcements of upcoming releases and appearances. He is also on Facebook and Twitter.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2012 by Richard A. Knaak
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First Gallery Books trade paperback edition September 2012
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-1-4516-5607-7
ISBN 978-1-4516-5608-4 (ebook)
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Shade Page 32
