Xabene was still asleep on his arm when Benton Lore quietly returned to their chamber. The enchantress, in a complete reversal of the sort of personality she had exhibited upon their first encounter, had pleaded with the weary scholar to remain with her. He could hardly blame her. Had he suffered as she had, it was likely he would have made the same request.
"Good morning," the black man quietly said with just a touch of mirth in his eyes. "Sleep well?"
The scholar shook his head. He had dozed, but nothing more. Each sound had made him think that either Shade or the Lords of the Dead had finally made a reappearance.
Hearing Lore, the enchantress stirred. When she realized where she was lying, she quickly sat up. "What is it?"
"Morning, nothing more."
"Morning . . . " Xabene grew wistful. "I used to love the nights . . . "
"His Majesty would like to see you," Lore announced. Wellen looked down at his ruined clothing. "Do we have some time or are we required there now?"
"You have time to make yourself presentable, of course. Her presence is not required."
Before Xabene could say anything, the scholar replied, "I think he will want both of us there."
"As you wish." The commander snapped his fingers. Two human servants brought in food and fresh clothing. Benton Lore seemed more than just a loyal soldier serving a Dragon King. He was more of a major-domo, ever making certain that the kingdom, his kingdom, ran as smoothly as possible. Lore was probably almost as much the ruler as the Green Dragon. "A guard will be posted outside. When you are ready, you will be brought before His Majesty. Until then."
The officer departed, leaving Wellen and Xabene in the care of the servants, who, it seemed, were there to see that the duo did not dawdle. The two chose to eat first, hunger having quickly stirred once they were awake.
"What do you do now?" Xabene asked between bites of a juicy fruit called a srevo.
"What we do depends on the Dragon King." Whether she was distancing herself for his sake or her own, Wellen had no intention of parting just yet.
A passing smile, only a shadow of the once-seductive one. "And what do you think he'll want of us?"
Wellen knew the answer to that one without thinking about it. "It will have something to do with the gnome, I'm certain. What else is there?"
She grimaced. "You're probably right."
They ate in silence after that.
At first, it seemed he was wrong.
"I have utilized all options open to me," the dragon informed them almost immediately upon their arrival. "And I find no trace of either the Lords of the Dead or Shade. None of the gateways that they use are open and my power is insufficient to break through the lock spells they have set. Insufficient, that is, for the time being."
The Dragon King's almost clinical manner reminded WeIlen of one of his instructors in school. An image of the drake lord teaching a bored class formed in his mind. He quickly stiffed it and waited for the reptilian monarch to continue.
It almost seemed as if the Green Dragon was hesitant to add to what he had already said. "Your warlock friend still lackssss hisss . . . his ability to teleport, that is, if your spell still holds true."
Consternation filled the novice sorcerer. He had completely forgotten about the accidental 'curse' he had laid upon the hooded warlock. Shade had brought them to the domain of the Lords of the Dead and then had shown them the way out, but in neither case had he needed to rely on a spell of teleportation, although what spell Shade had used to send them to the necromancers' foul kingdom was beyond him. Wellen was almost certain that the warlock had materialized in the hall during the initial chaos, but if the Green Dragon had not had an opportunity to free Shade of Bedlam's blunder, then the scholar was mistaken. In the rush of things, it had probably just seemed as if the warlock had teleported.
"Then, he has no chance." In a sense, Wellen realized that he had condemned the ancient spellcaster to his fate. "That is where you might be wrong."
"You know something?"
"I fear you will not like it, human."
He knew then what the Dragon King was suggesting. "You want me to go and seek out the gnome."
"Insanity!" Xabene, who had kept quiet since their arrival, mostly because the reptilian monarch had stared her down almost immediately, dared step toward the massive figure lying before them. Benton Lore and several guards readied their weapons. While Wellen could not fault their loyalty, he did find it hard to think that they could possibly protect the Dragon King better than he himself could. What were swords and spears compared to one paw?
"I merely offered the choice, female," snarled Green. The enchantress, staring up at his open jaws, stepped back behind the dubious protection of Wellen's body. "I feel that Master Bedlam would have wanted to know regardless."
"Thank you, yes." The idea of returning to the field and seeking out the hermitic gnome, a creature who had baffled and foiled would-be conquerers for as long as anyone could remember, appeared ludicrous on the surface. It also appeared ludicrous below the surface.
And yet . . .
"Shade might be dead," Xabene reminded him, seeing the calculating look on his visage. "Could he possibly hold on for so long?"
He remembered the rolling thunder again. If the shadowy warlock was dead, however, why were the Lords of the Dead not moving? Surely they still wanted Wellen. There was also Xabene. He doubted that they would leave her be.
It was no use mulling it over and over. The explorer knew what his decision was already. He had to know. He had to try. "How can I do what no one else has in all these centuries? How can I gain entrance to the gnome's citadel?"
The burning eyes of his host lowered. "That, I fear, I do not know. I cannot even ssssay how you might find the curssssed place!"
"Then why bring it up?" Xabene asked, her voice and stance mocking.
"Because I am in debt to the gray one!" The Dragon King would say no more about that. "And if I knew of a way to send mysssself to hissss . . . his aid, I would."
"Wellen, listen to me!" The raven-tressed woman turned to him so that they faced each other. She moved close, too close for his peace of mind, and said, "It would be madness to put yourself in the claws of Purple. While he is a lover of knowledge, like this one, he lacks any care for humanity. As long as you are useful to him, you stay alive! Become useless and you perish!"
"She is correct in what she says."
He knew that, but it made no difference. Somehow, he had to find a way. Wellen silently pondered his own abilities, physical and otherwise, and tried to find something that would aid him. There was not much. He was a researcher, a would-be explorer, a man of books who lived for knowledge but did not always use it to his benefit. Wellen admitted to himself that he knew facts, not the world. It was not an entirely shameful thing. Even now, the thought of merely conversing with the gnome, learning a few of the things the master of the citadel had learned, exchanging knowledge . . .
Exchanging knowledge?
Would it work?
The others, even the Dragon King, had waited in silence, seeing that this was an inner struggle on which everything here hinged. Wellen smiled at Xabene, thanking her for what he was certain was true concern, then turned so that he faced Lore and his monarch, too.
"I think I have a plan."
"Indeed?" The lord of the Dagora Forest lowered his tremendous head. Benton Lore looked skeptical, but that was the way prime ministers and major-domos were supposed to look as far as Wellen was concerned.
"What can you tell me about the gnome?"
Green acceded to his second. "Lore?"
The pepper-haired soldier thought. "There is not much, my lord. No one knows much about him. If he has a name, it has never reached the ears of a talespinner. Legend says that it is the same gnome, that he is immortal, but I find that hard to believe."
"What about Shade?" Xabene could not help asking slyly. "Shade is Shade. He is an entirely different matter."
"Of
course."
The commander went on. "Now and then it's claimed he is seen in human settlements. I have even heard he appears in the aeries of the Seekers or, more doubtful, the underworld dwellings of the imaginary Quel."
"They are not imaginary," Wellen commented, recalling the massive, armored monsters.
"No?" The Dragon King was interested in pursuing the subject, but held back while Lore continued.
"No one knows what he does when he appears. He is seen and then not seen."
Wellen scratched his chin. "What sort of people have seen him?"
"My spies, but I assume they are not who you mean. Learned folk for the most part. People whose word I can trust in this matter. There have been others, some trustworthy, some not, but the majority are as I said."
"I think he must love knowledge," the scholar commented. He knew that his idea might be foolhardy, but no more than some of those ideas attempted already. How many more ridiculous plots had been hatched over the millennia as desperation grew among those seeking the dragon tome and its owner?
"What do you propose?" Lore asked, his doubts in whatever Wellen had planned quite evident.
"Something simple and straightforward, but it still required knowing where the citadel is."
"I think . . . there may be a way," Xabene interjected. She did not want to speak, but if Wellen intended to seek out the gnome again, everyone knew that she would go with him. Therefore, it behooved her to increase their chances of success as much as possible.
"And what might that be, female?" asked the Dragon King. He was as doubtful of her suggestions as Benton Lore had been of whatever plan Bedlam had come up with.
The enchantress grew thoughtful. "I'd rather not say until I've had a chance to try it. There is a problem, though."
"Of course."
"Not one beyond the skill of the enterprising Commander Lore, however," she added, smiling knowingly at the officer. "I need you to gather grass from the region where the structure rested. Grass and cloth for weaving."
"Grass?" Lore was incredulous.
"You shall have whatever you desire, female," the reptilian patriarch interrupted. His nostrils flared, sending tiny clouds of smoke flying. "But I shall expect some results. Your skills are not what they used to be."
Xabene was more confident now, despite the polite reminder of her present status. "If you can get me what I need today, than two days from now should be sufficient to find out if I'm correct, Your Majesty. What I hope to do doesn't require much sorcery. Just concentration, cunning, and some talent for weaving." She looked at her hands in disgust. "Something I thought I'd never have to do again."
"And you, Wellen Bedlam," the Dragon King said. "Is there anything beyond the usual preparations that you will need for this undertaking?"
He could think of only one thing. "Luck."
Green chuckled. The sound echoed. "That, I am afraid, is a treasure likely beyond even the gnome."
Perhaps because of the task Xabene had set before him, Benton Lore had been determined to retrieve the grass himself. He presented her with his catch only two hours after the audience with the Green Dragon. The major-domo's eyes dared the enchantress to tell him that he had failed in any way. Xabene, however, indicated she was quite satisfied with the bundle of wild grass. She took it and other materials she had requested to her chamber, where some of the other human servants had set up a device to aid her in her weaving. With it, the enchantress promised that even with her rusting skills would be able to finish the project by nightfall. Wellen was almost certain that she actually looked forward to the work, if only to keep her mind off of her former masters.
The explorer's own plans were so simple that he had much time on his hands. Part of that time he spent with the Dragon King, who more and more became simply a fellow scholar and not an emerald-scaled leviathan who could have swallowed him whole. The drake lord told him more about the Dragonrealm and how the Dragon Kings ruled it.
There were thirteen kings and twenty-five or so dukes. The truth as to their origins was lost to the drakes; as far as most were concerned, the past really did not matter. It was where the Green Dragon differed from most of his brethren. "The past matters very greatly. We are but the most recent monarchs of this land. I do not think, human, that I am remissss in believing that our predecessorssss also thought that they would rule forever."
It was a sobering thought even to the human. He thought of his own race and the ever-growing menace of the Sons of the Wolf back home. Most thought the raiders were a temporary menace, but Wellen sometimes wondered.
As she had promised, Xabene did finish the weaving portion of her plan. The enchantress forbid anyone to touch or even look at her work, but not because she was embarrassed about its quality. With her meager magic, the sorceress-turned-weaver had instigated the next step, which would take all night to complete itself and was so sensitive to outside influence that even Bedlam, with his limited abilities, might disturb it.
The night passed so uneventfully that Wellen, unable to believe it, found he still could not sleep. Again, the sounds around him made him think of either Shade or the Lords of the Dead. Sleep finally did come, but then his dreams were haunted by cloth-enshrouded specters and rotting ghouls that slowly stalked him.
Morning, as horribly quick as it came, was a blessing by comparison.
Xabene remained ensconced in her chambers. What she was doing was still a mystery, since she had forbidden even Wellen to enter, but the smell of melting wax wafted from the entranceway. Feeling rather useless, again, he decided to see if he could convince the Dragon King to teach him how to bring his abilities to the surface and use them with some consistency. The idea had originally come to him because of the constant nagging in his head. His premonitions could not cope with dragons nearby, even if those creatures were either indifferent or, in the case of the monarch himself, fairly friendly. It was especially irritating this morning.
The dragon, however, had been reluctant so far to instruct him. As with many things, he had not said why. Wellen, who had seen few other drakes during his stay here, had an idea why. Making use of humans was one thing. While Bedlam knew that Benton Lore was very important to the leviathan and even respected by the Green Dragon's clans, part of that respect was due to the knowledge that he was fiercely loyal to his lord. He had been born and raised in one of the human settlements and considered it as much his land as his lord's.
The scholar, on the other hand, was an outsider. Not merely someone from a neighboring kingdom, but from a land beyond the control of any Dragon King. He was an enigma and, as Wellen had discovered, the drakes disliked, perhaps even feared, enigmas.
A guard met him in the tunnel just a few yards from his destination. "Your presence is requested by His Majesty." "I was just going to him."
The guard insisted on leading him back the short distance. Protocol was protocol even in the kingdoms of the Dragon Kings.
Raising his head, the emerald behemoth acknowledged the human's arrival. "Master Bedlam. So good of you to come so quickly."
"I was on my way to see you when your guardsman found me."
"Then you heard."
"Heard?" Wellen's hopes rose. "Shade's returned?"
"Alas, no. This concerns an intruder captured in the eastern edge of my forest. A most unique human."
"And how does that concern me?"
The dragon's mouth curled into a toothy smile. "He claims to know you."
"Know me?" Wellen tried to recall who had been left in charge of the Heron's Wing. With all that had happened, however, he could not even summon up a distinct face, much less a name. "Who?"
'Riming his head, the dragon commanded, "You may bring the creature in."
Two guards stepped from a side corridor into the cavern chamber. Between them was one of the last people that the explorer had ever thought to see again.
"Asaalk!"
"Master Bedlam, would you so kindly please tell these two that I am friend, not f
oe?" The blue man partially turned so that Wellen could see the ropes that bound his arms back.
"You do know thissss . . . this creature?" The drake lord was visibly amused by the northerner's blue skin.
"I do, Your Majesty. He is likely the only other survivor of the column, unless, of course, some made it back to those waiting for us." The hopeful explorer looked to Asaalk for confirmation.
"Alas, I do not know," Prentiss Asaalk replied with great sadness. "Until yesterday, I was a prisoner of the beast who rules the land to the east, yes!"
"The Purple Dragon?"
"The Lord Purple, yes. I was not laughing, either, despite his peculiar appearance. He is not a forgiving master."
"He is not," agreed the Green Dragon, interjecting at this point. "It issss a wonder you succeeded to escape!"
Prentiss Asaalk bowed. "Master Bedlam will tell you that I can be enterprising when I need to be, yes?"
Wellen nodded. Deep down, he was sorry that it had not been Yalso who had survived, although he knew that could not have ever been the case, having witnessed the captain's death himself. He was ashamed that he was less thrilled by Asaalk's survival than he would have been if the mariner had walked through the door. The blue man had probably gone through at least as much hell as he had.
The huge dragon nodded to the guards. From their faces, they were not that pleased to release the blue man, but when their master commanded they obeyed.
"My great thanks, Your August Majesty!" Asaalk rubbed his arms where rope marked had formed.
"In gratitude, you will tell us all, in detail, of your captivity and your escape."
"Only too gladly!" With gusto, Prentiss Asaalk talked about being thrown from his horse and stumbling his way north. Twice he had thought that the dragon was coming for him, but both times it veered away. The northerner, weaponless, had nevertheless continued on bravely to the north. There were incidents, but his skills of survival had always come through for him in the end.
Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04 Page 22
