Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  "Tell me, commander," Wellen said, noting the walls and ceiling of the chamber. "Was this entire system carved out or did any of it exist before the coming of the drakes?"

  "Much of it was as you see it, sirrah. Even this place. But there have been many ruling races in this land, as my lord made mention, and some of those used this place before. We have had to make few additions."

  "A ready-made kingdom," Xabene commented. "I hope the next rulers appreciate it as much as your masters do."

  "Your mounts await you," Benton Lore reminded them, the enchantress's comment diplomatically ignored. It was impossible to believe he did not think about who those rulers would be. The Green Dragon had already hinted that the human race was becoming more and more an influential force in the realm. The major-domo himself was part of that force, having almost gained a kingdom of his own from the looks of things. The human habitations of this cavern system had to nearly equal in size those of the drake clans unless the entire cave system was even more extensive than it seemed. With men like Benton Lore to lead the way, humanity was indeed gaining a stronger foothold, especially in this region.

  Not all the Dragon Kings were likely to appreciate that as much as the Green Dragon did.

  Lore watched in silence as they mounted their horses. Because of Prentiss Asaalk, he did not mention that he would be following, but Wellen knew that they would barely be beyond the cave entrance before the commander himself mounted. He felt a little better knowing that Lore would be behind them; in some ways, the efficiency of the man reminded him of the late, lamented Yalso. Recollections of the captain, both before and after his death, renewed Wellen's decision to go ahead with this lunacy. Unlike Yalso, Shade might not yet be beyond his ability to save.

  "You will be led to the entrance," the officer informed them solemnly. "From there, you will be on your own. You have the maps I gathered for you and you have the tapestry. That should be all you need. Follow the timetable we agreed on and there should be no trouble. Lord Purple will be too busy with other matters to watch out for you."

  "Let us hope so." Asaalk's whisper was loud enough for all of them to hear.

  "May the Dragon of the Depths watch over you," the black man concluded.

  Two soldiers on horseback joined them. One of them, a dark-skinned man he recognized from the initial patrol, saluted and said, "Master Bedlam, if you and yours will follow me."

  They did as he requested, Wellen and Xabene riding alongside one another and the blue man a length behind them. After the trio came the other soldier. Lore was taking no chances.

  From the torch-lit stable they entered a darkened tunnel. The soldiers were undaunted by this change, but Wellen disliked it. There was no complaint from Asaalk, however, and Xabene, more used to the night than the day, likely was at peace. Wellen wished he could adjust his eyes to the way they had been during his sojourn into the realm of the dead.

  A tiny light blossomed in the distance, the entrance to the outside. Bedlam wanted to ride hard toward it in order to escape the darkness, but he was aware how that might appear to the others. They would reach the light before long, anyway.

  Then their troubles would truly begin.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The gnome smiled as he watched his adversaries play their games. The flurry of activity beyond his domain had given birth to a new, typically remarkable idea and he looked forward to implementing it when the time came.

  The time was very near. Only a short distance from him, in fact.

  When the time chosen for the diversion came, they acted as planned. They rode with speed and determination, their course rechecked just prior to the appointed hour. The citadel was still in the northwestern region, so close to where they had waited that it seemed almost a shame they had waited at all. Yet, wait they had, for no one, with the possible exception of Prentiss Asaalk, wanted to go charging in until their chances were best.

  Somewhere behind them, Benton Lore was supposedly keeping pace. There had been no sign of the man, but the soldier was an expert at scouting . . . as he seemed to be expert at almost everything else.

  Wellen's head, of course, pounded with dire warnings all the while. He needed no overly sensitive albeit consistent ability to tell him that he faced possible danger. He had known that from the first time the Dragon King had suggested this.

  To the scholar's left, Prentiss Asaalk stared sullenly ahead. He had not forgiven them for their lack of trust, at least, that was what Wellen had decided. It was possible that would change if they were successful and the gnome showed them not only how to free Shade, but also how to rid the blue man of the magical collar just underneath his skin. The thought of the collar being there made Bedlam cringe every time he considered it; a fine but horrible piece of sorcery. He was amazed that anyone could live with such a thing attached, but the Dragonrealm probably held worse than that.

  "It has to be just a short distance ahead!" shouted Xabene. "If we go too much farther, we'll be too much to the east!"

  So far, there had been no sign of activity on the Purple Dragon's part. Wellen was both wary and relieved by that. True, the Green Dragon's deception was already at work, but from what he had heard of the master of this land, Bedlam could not help considering that this drake lord might not be so easily fooled.

  Could it be he wanted them to locate the citadel for him? If so, how did the Dragon King think he was going to seize the prize? If the gnome deigned to speak to them, then they would surely be under some protection, as, of course, would be the tome everyone wanted so badly. If they failed, then Purple would be back where he started.

  Benton Lore probably held the key. It would not have been surprising to learn that the lord of the Dagora Forest had held back a few plans even from Wellen. Not a betrayal, as Xabene or Asaalk might see it, but rather caution, for if the party did not know what else had been plotted, then it was doubtful anyone watching them would.

  Raising a hand and slowing her mount, the enchantress cried out, "This is it! We're here!"

  "Are you certain?" The blue man reined his horse to a stop. He peered around. "It all looks the same. I sense nothing, either."

  "Let me look." She unrolled the tapestry. Wellen saw now another reason it was so small. Anything larger would have been cumbersome and nearly impossible to study while on horseback. Xabene glanced up several times, studied the landscape, then finally nodded. "If I'm correct, we're only about fifty feet from it."

  "Which way?" Like Asaalk, Wellen could not see or sense anything that told him where the citadel might be buried. If they had not had the tapestry . . .

  She rolled the magical item back up and placed it in the case Lore had given them. The enchantress then pointed to a spot to the southeast. "There. It lies somewhere just in front of us." They dismounted. Bedlam experienced a sense of déjà vu,

  save that this time he was hoping that the gnome's stronghold would reappear.

  "You know," the sorceress said quietly, looking somewhat ashamed, "the first time you came here, when the place vanished, it wasn't entirely by your choice."

  "I wondered."

  "I was told to put the desire into your mind and enforce it. Given a choice, I would have preferred not to, but they were adamant. You can see how well it worked."

  "Are you suggesting that I might have been influenced again?"

  "By the drake who plays at being your friend?" Xabene shrugged. "I'd say I wouldn't be surprised, Wellen, although I do think he likes you. That might save your life in the end if it happens to be true."

  "Or not. I've already considered the things you mentioned now, though, and I think I still would have come here. I owe Shade that, even if it's only to bring his body back."

  She smiled sadly at him. "An idealist!"

  "Worse. A dreamer." He did not try to explain the difference.

  "Are we there yet?" asked the blue man, who had been trying all the while to find something, anything, that would lend credence to the tapestry's revelation.r />
  Xabene took a few more steps, then stopped. "This should be good."

  "Am I facing it?" Despite the danger of their situation, Wellen also feared the gnome's opinion of him if he happened to be facing the wrong direction. The wizened spellcaster's opinion was paramount, else he had not a chance of convincing the creature to hear him out.

  "You should be. I'm sorry, but the tapestry was put together in quick fashion. As I said, if I'd had more time, I could have made it more elaborate."

  "This will do."

  "You are merely going to talk?" an incredulous Prentiss Asaalk spouted. "This is your masssster plan? This is to succeed where all other plans have failed?"

  Wellen looked at him, trying not to think about how his own face must be turning red at the northerner's accusatory tone. "You knew that was what I planned."

  "Yes, but I expected that . . . " The blue man trailed off. From his outburst, the scholar understood what Asaalk had left unsaid. Considering the distrust surrounding him, Asaalk had expected not to be told everything. That expectation had already been justified.

  "Get on with it!" Xabene urged. "The longer we wait here the worse our chances."

  Bedlam nodded. He reached down and removed the sword and scabbard he had been given in what he hoped was an obvious enough attempt to show the gnome he came in peace. Xabene stepped near, took the articles from him, and retreated again. Taking a deep breath, he organized his thoughts. "Master of the citadel, I know you by no name save 'gnome' but I hope you will hear me out this time. A plain and simple offer is what I bring. An exchange. I need your aid, your knowledge, to save a life and free another. I want nothing else from you. Your precious tome, what the Dragon King Purple and so many others have sought over the centuries, is none of my concern."

  To one side, the enchantress wore a bitter mask. She had likely spent much of her service to the Lords of the Dead in pursuit of the very object he was telling the gnome he wanted no part of.

  "In exchange, I can offer you only one thing. I come from a land beyond the seas east of here. My former home is one of only many, but I have spent my life, short as it is compared to your own, studying all those realms. You seem one forever searching for knowledge; I am the same. If you can aid me in my quest, a simple one for a spellcaster of your proven skill, then whatever I know I offer to share with you, scholar to scholar."

  There was nothing more he could think of to say that would not make him sound like he was babbling. Wellen folded his arms and glanced Xabene's way again. She nodded her satisfaction. Prentiss Asaalk, a bit farther back, had eyes only for the patch of grassy ground before the shorter man. Wellen might have been invisible for all the interest the blue man had in him.

  The scholar returned his own gaze to the still, innocuous- looking piece of field and waited.

  Several minutes later, he was still waiting.

  "We've failed," Xabene said at last, breaking the uneasy silence. "We'd better leave."

  "Not yet."

  "He won't respond, Wellen! We're all next to nothing to the gnome, even the Dragon Kings!" She stepped closer, intending to take his arm.

  A powerful wind erupted in the grasslands Wellen watched. The startled sorceress stepped back.

  The patch of grass shimmered, grew indistinct.

  Asaalk muttered something that was lost in the roar of the unnatural wind.

  The scant outline of a tall structure briefly formed before Wellen. He blinked, finally marking it down as wishful thinking when it did not rematerialize.

  "Wellen, come away!"

  "No! He musssst not!" shouted the blue man. The ferocity in his voice so snared Bedlam that he started to turn toward the northerner.

  A vaguely recalled tingle coursed through his body. He stumbled back, but not too far. His head barely throbbed and that meant that he was not in any true danger from what was happening . . . at least, not at the moment.

  With a crackle of thunder, the five-sided citadel of the gnome once more stood before him.

  There was a difference this time.

  A hole just large enough to admit the scholar marred the otherwise smooth, featureless side of the sanctum.

  "We can enter!" Prentiss Asaalk raced toward the hole, which Wellen realized was an entrance, and tried to go through.

  The wall sealed up just as he was about to put his hand into the opening.

  The tall warrior pulled back his arm with a snarl. He pounded a fist against the blank wall and shouted, "This is the last trick! Open! Open or I shall tear this place down around you!"

  "I doubt that threat means much to him," a more practical Xabene interjected. She had quickly grasped the situation. "Wellen, I think it's only meant for you."

  "What?" Watching the fruitless pounding by Asaalk had made him think of something, but the notion faded like dew in the sunlight the moment the enchantress spoke. Perhaps later, he decided. "What did you say?"

  "I think . . . " She put a hand against the wall. Her success was no better than that of the northerner. "I think you might be the only one allowed to go inside."

  "It must be all of us!" Asaalk argued.

  "We do not have a say in the matter. Only the gnome, and he's chosen Wellen alone."

  "Me . . . but I cannot leave you two out here!"

  "I don't like it either, but you can't pass this up! It's you alone or no one."

  She was probably right, but he did not like the thought of the two of them alone. Not merely because of the danger around them, but the certainty that the longer Xabene and Asaalk were alone together, the more likely they would come to blows about something.

  Xabene confronted the taller man. "You. Move."

  Seething, Prentiss Asaalk nonetheless obeyed. His eyes, more narrow than Wellen recalled them, darted back and forth between the scholar and the treacherous wall.

  The hole sprouted into existence, this time more directly aligned with where an anxious Wellen stood.

  "See what I mean?"

  He nodded. "I do, but it's all of us or none of us. I cannot leave you behind." He faced the inviting hole. "All of us . . . that's not too much to ask for! I will vouch for them!"

  There was no reason for the eternal to do anything but laugh at his daring. Nonetheless, he was determined that his companions join him. Even if Prentiss Asaalk was a spy for the Purple Dragon, certainly the gnome knew that already. With trepidation, Bedlam approached the gaping hole. It seemed to widen the nearer he came, as if seeking to accommodate him as well as possible. The way the stone, if that was what it was, shifted and flowed made him think of a gigantic maw opening to accept a meal. He wondered if the citadel was somehow alive, then tried quickly to drop the horrific thought as he ran out of distance between the structure and his body and discovered that his next step would take him inside.

  One foot through. The hole remained still. It had not attempted to relieve him of his leg as part of him had secretly feared. Wellen leaned forward, planted his boot on the smooth, marble floor, and peered inside.

  A blank corridor, impossibly long. He could not make out what was at the other end, although he assumed it was a doorway. The scholar recalled circling the pentagon and was certain that it had not been this lengthy. A trick of the eye? The citadel's master was a spellcaster of seemingly limitless ability. It could be real. Almost as an afterthought, he noticed a corridor on each side of him as well. For some reason, however, he did not give them the consideration that he gave the one in front.

  He turned back to the others. "Inside. Quick."

  The ancient mage might choose to crush his body in the very wall, but Wellen was willing to risk it. That the gnome had expressed interest in him at all meant that the mage might hesitate. The other two were of no consequence to the master of the citadel and he hoped they were hardly reason enough to send a certain presumptuous scholar to his gory death.

  Asaalk removed his own weapons but held back, allowing Xabene to be the first. The enchantress, unarmed, walked up to the portal
, but then hesitated at the threshold. Her fear was no mystery; she wondered if the hole would close as soon as she dared put a hand or foot through. This close to the goal her masters had set for her, the ivory-skinned sorceress was frozen.

  Prentiss Asaalk solved the problem by pushing her through.

  There was a collective gasp from Bedlam, the stumbling enchantress, and even an anxious Asaalk.

  Nothing happened. Xabene continued across and then spun around, her eyes aflame and her hands twitching as if she sought to utilize what little strength remained to see that the blue man regretted his maneuver.

  "Xabene!" the scholar hissed. "Remember where you are! For all our sakes!"

  She did, and the knowledge drained her of the desire if not the anger. The seething woman relaxed as best she could and muttered, "I won't forget that, blue man!"

  "I had faith," the northerner replied in cool tones. He dismissed her as if she had ceased to exist. Asaalk stepped calmly through the hole, gazed down the corridor, then turned to wait for Wellen.

  The apprehensive explorer, moving with a speed enhanced by a well-honed sense of mistrust, finished crossing the unnerving portal, then stood transfixed in the corridor by the sheer thought of being inside what so many had fought fruitlessly to enter. Here was the domain of the enigmatic, immortal gnome.

  "Wellen!"

  Xabene's warning shout shook him from his stupor. He whirled about and watched in dismay as the circular portal shriveled. Smaller and smaller it grew, a gaping wound magically healing itself before their very eyes. Wellen reached toward it, then pulled his hand back when he realized that all he might succeed in doing was trapping his arm in the side of the citadel.

  With a slight hiss, the hole ceased to be.

  After some careful consideration, Wellen ran his fingertips across the region where the entrance had been. There was not even the slightest trace of its existence. For all practical purposes, it might never have been.