Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  Holding out a hand, Shade tried to appeal to the confused scholar. "Master Bedlam, have him explain what has happened to the others he allowed inside! Ask him why neither the Dragon King nor any of the others who sought, foolishly, I see, the secrets of this monster ever questioned those folk! Ask him what became of them!"

  "It is time you left." Serkadion Manee pointed at the other Vraad.

  A brilliant emerald green aura bathed Shade. The warlock smiled and the aura winked out of existence as abruptly as it had formed.

  "My cousins showed more imagination."

  Helpless, Wellen and Xabene stepped back from Manee. The gnome ignored them. "You want imagination?"

  Every book from the shelves before, next to, and behind the hooded figure shot forth.

  Shade covered his face as the paper hailstorm battered and buried him. Though he must have sought to protect himself with his own skills, several volumes struck him soundly on the head. The warlock went down on one knee. The dragon tomes, what he had desired for so very long, continued to come to join their brethren in the assault.

  Unable to stand it any longer, Wellen ceased his retreat and came up behind the gnome. Manee, still holding his head and now breathing with a little difficulty, paid him no mind as he concentrated on defeating his rival.

  "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing!" snarled Serkadion Manee. Despite his seeming triumph, however, each passing second saw him more and more exhausted. He clutched his side.

  Wellen's head screamed of the danger he was thrusting himself into, but the novice warlock patently ignored both the warning and the fear he felt rising. Perhaps it was still the memory of Shade and his silent talk with the phantasms of the scholar's ancestors or even Wellen's own brief conversation with Sharissa Zeree's specter, but he could not allow Serkadion Manee to continue.

  Praying that something, anything, would happen, Bedlam touched the gnome's shoulder.

  In the chamber where the Dragon King struggled, the magical page that held him prisoner burst into flames.

  The Purple Dragon roared.

  Wellen had hardly expected Serkadion Manee to scream, but the master of the citadel did so—and very loudly. Manee doubled over, falling to the floor. One hand still clutched his head. "Too much . . ." he muttered. "Too much . . . but it cannot be! Not me!" Then, "He will escape . . . he will . . ."

  "What did you do?" the enchantress asked, joining Wellen. The gnome, curled up, seemed to be in shock, although it might have been the effect of sorcery. Slowly, his words became quieter. Serkadion Manee eventually froze in one position. Wellen stared at his hand, uncertain as to whether he was the cause or not. When Xabene moved even closer to him, he was almost afraid to touch her for fear the same fate that had befallen Serkadion Manee would befall her.

  "I don't know . . . it could have been me . . ." He reached toward the fallen figure, but pulled his hand back at the last moment. Wellen had no desire to kill Manee. That might happen if he touched him again. He still had no control over his abilities.

  Understanding his quandary, Xabene knelt and inspected Serkadion Manee for him. Her first touch was tentative, but when the still figure did not respond, she became less cautious. After a brief inspection, the enchantress pushed aside some hair that had fallen forward and said, "He's either in a trance or there's a spell on him."

  "Is there anything you can do?"

  "I could care less about doing anything for this parasite . . . but the answer is no; I can't. What has him is beyond my meager powers."

  "I could try to touch him again," he suggested with some hesitation, his hands clenched, "but it might only harm him. I . . . I do not even dare touch you."

  Xabene reached out and took hold of his left hand before he realized what she was about.

  "No—" His protest faded when nothing happened. Bedlam glared at the woman.

  She smiled. "You seem to work off your emotions. I counted on the fact that you wouldn't want to hurt me. I was right."

  As a scholar, he would have argued her logic, especially as it did not take in so any other considerations. On a more personal level, he agreed with her . . . not that he planned on telling the enchantress that.

  His eyes drifted beyond her, alighting on the massive pile of bulky tomes. "Shade!"

  Nearly dragging Xabene along, he rushed to where the warlock had made his last stand. While Wellen could not forgive the mad spellcaster, as with Serkadion Manee, he wished Shade no injury. Wellen admitted to himself that there was still a trace of compassion for the warlock. In the same position, the scholar wondered how he would have held up. Would he have been as insane as Shade? Worse?

  They dug their way into the pile. The scholar was amazed at both the sheer number of books and how none of them had been damaged in any way. Serkadion Manee's assault had initially surprised him, for he had not thought the gnome would risk his own work. Now he saw that the gnome had assured the condition of the dragon tomes before sending them at his adversary.

  Deeper and deeper they burrowed, Wellen as swiftly as he could and Xabene with much reluctance. As far as she was probably concerned, two great problems had been removed from her life. Wellen was aware that the only reason she helped was because she knew he would not leave without trying.

  The literary avalanche gave way in short order to his efforts, but still he could not find Shade. Bedlam began moving around the massive pile, thinking perhaps that he had chosen the wrong location to dig.

  Shoving aside yet another dozen tomes, Xabene cursed in the name of her former masters and said, "Wellen, we have to forget him! I think it might be a good idea if we search instead for a way out of this place!"

  "Not without Shade! He saved your life, remember!"

  "And we've repaid him for that! Just because it turned out to be a ploy on his part . . ." She shivered, recalling something for the first time. "I wonder what he did to them. He must have defeated them." Her eyes grew round. "Gods, what power and skill!"

  "Thank you . . ." came a hissing voice from where they had left the unconscious gnome. "It wassss really nothing at all!"

  A leviathan in scale armor, the Purple Dragon was a thing of nightmares. He filled the hall, so massive was he even in humanoid form. The dragon's head crest leering down on the twosome made him come nearly to the ceiling: Within the helm, they saw the reptilian eyes burning. Now and then, a forked tongue would dart out of a mouth filled with jagged teeth. The image of a monstrous knight was so real it was almost impossible to believe that the armor was actually just the Dragon King's scaly hide twisted by the spell that allowed him this shape.

  With one hand he carried the unmoving form of Serkadion Manee. The other was raised toward the duo.

  "You are mine at lasssst, manling! I have everyting now!" He indicated the two should come to him.

  Wellen's body rose, although Wellen himself tried not to obey. Xabene was already moving toward the armored figure. He caught a glimpse of her horrified expression and wondered about his own.

  The Purple Dragon made them pause just within arm's length. One swipe of his clawed hand could have torn both their throats out. This near, the scholar noticed that the drake was not as at ease as he had tried to make them believe. There were signs of strain. Wellen could see that Purple was feeling the weight of trying to maintain his control over the situation.

  If nothing else, it was the sibilance in his voice that most betrayed the Dragon King. The more excited or weary he became, the more the hissing grew dominant. "At lassst! Now all I need issss the interfering warlock who wassss the final sssstraw!" The drake gave a raspy chuckle. "If not for him, I might sssstill be sssstruggling! Not that the outcome wassss not inevitable regardlesssss! I would have sssstill triumphed, jusssst a bit later!"

  Wellen and Xabene once more moved without their own consent. Lugging the gnome with him, the Dragon King stepped between them and confronted the sea of knowledge under which Serkadion Manee had attempted to drown Shade.

  "Let it b
e assss it wassss."

  The dragon tomes flew back to their various shelves. There did not seem to be any order to what the Purple Dragon did. He did not seem to care about organizing the books, merely putting them where they would be out of the way. For the moment, Shade, the last loose end, was all that concerned him.

  When all the books had flown away, however, there was no trace of the hooded warlock. The Dragon King stalked over to where the center of the mountain of tomes had stood and peered down at the floor.

  "Bah!" He turned back to Wellen. "Your comrade issss either a victim of thissss damnable little ssssprite or hassss fled in mindlessss fear at my coming! Either way, he will trouble ussss no more!"

  That Shade had turned coward was not a notion that Wellen Bedlam believed. That the warlock had fled, however, he found more likely. With Serkadion Manee's spell of rejuvenation not to his liking and the Dragon King now in control, there was no reason for Shade to stay.

  Yet, he had fought with Manee over Wellen's freedom.

  The Purple Dragon's breathing quickened. He put Serkadion Manee down and leaned against one of the corridor walls. For a brief moment, the horrific warrior shimmered.

  Wellen found he could move his fingers. It was not a great victory in the scheme of things, but it was a victory nonetheless. It meant that the Dragon King was weaker.

  Slowly, the drake regained control of himself. He glared at the two humans, daring either of them to comment on his weakness. Still under his spell, they could not have said anything even if they had been insane enough to want to. Satisfied, the drake contemplated his next move.

  "There issss no need for the two of you for now," he informed them. The truth, Bedlam knew, was that like Serkadion Manee, it was becoming harder and harder for Purple to spread his power over so much. If he could find another way of keeping his two human prisoners secure, then it would allow him to redirect his efforts. "I shall sssend you to the royal caverns. Then, when the time permitssss, I will be better able to dissssect what information you know from your mindssss."

  He waved a negligent hand at them, then hissed in anger when they simply stood there. The Dragon King stared at them long and hard. Wellen felt a faint tug, but it soon faded.

  "Why do you not vanish? What holdssss you here?" The Purple Dragon picked up the wizened sorcerer at his feet and held him at eye level. "Thissss issss your doing! It will not ssssave you, though! Your precioussss tomessss are now mine and they shall stay mine!" A sinewy tongue darted out and in. "You would like me to assssk you for aid, would you not? You think I am foolish enough to rissssk your essscape by freeing you from thissss sssspell for any length of time? You will neither move nor sssspeak until I can be certain your cooperation issss assured!"

  The fearsome knight lowered his motionless captive and then scanned the library hall in both directions. There seemed no end to the corridor no matter which way one looked. Cursing, he turned back to the two helpless humans.

  Wellen found himself able to move once more. He looked up expectantly at the Dragon King.

  "There issss no need for me to wasssste my strength on you, manling. Neither you nor your mate have shown power of any ssssignificant level. Therefore, you will hardly be able to esssscape me should you both be mad enough to try."

  The scholar was well aware of their present chances. Later, things might change, but for now they had little choice but to obey. "I understand."

  "I am certain you do. Both of you."

  Xabene gasped as mastery of her body was once again hers. She quickly nodded her agreement.

  "We undersssstand one another. Good." The Dragon King studied the corridor behind where he had originally materialized. He nodded to himself and added, "Ssssince I may not teleport you out of thissss place, we niusssst find a portal like the one we entered by. You two will lead the way . . . jusssst in casssse."

  Wellen reached for the enchantress, but the drake's free hand came between then. Nothing was said but die message was clear. The Dragon King did not trust their apparent weakness that much. He would not allow his captives to conspire against him.

  Side-by-side but nearly an arm's length apart, the two began walking. The horrific knight followed only a few paces back, Serkadion Manee's small form not slowing his stride in the least. The sorcerer was carried the way one might carry a light sack, an ignoble position if ever there was one.

  Their trek began in silence, the Dragon King possibly taking inventory of his gains. Wellen doubted that his success was going to be as complete as he imagined. Something about the citadel, especially the libraries, seemed to hint at a reluctance to accept this new master. If defeating Serkadion Manee was all that the drake lord had needed to do to triumph, then why was he unwilling to teleport within the pentagon even if teleportation out of it was impossible? Surely if everything was now his, then there was no danger.

  If that were the case, Purple would not be using them as shields. No, the Dragon King knew that the battle was not yet over. He had captured only the master, not the servant.

  After a time, the scholar decided to chance talking to his captor. Anything to break the leaden silence that suppressed them all. "Is Prentiss Assaalk truly dead?"

  Almost to his surprise, the reptilian sovereign responded. "The gnome had the right of it. Your azure companion quickly proved himsssself too devioussss to live. I tolerate ambition in thosssse who are usssseful, but only assss long assss they undersssstand their place. I knew he would never undersssstand and sssso I played on hissss very arrogance and ambition." A hissing laugh. "There are collarssss and there are collarssss. Assss if I would be so foolish assss to trusssst him with the tassssk of sssseeking you out and bringing you back to me!"

  Asaalk had offered him to the Dragon King. Would I have done the same in his position? he asked himself.

  "There will be one for you and your female eventually. Collarssss that will only teach you your place, however, unlike some of the otherssss I have ussssed in the passsst. I needed the blue one'ssss appearance and mind but not hissss untrusssstworthy waysss. The collar he ignorantly donned drained him of all memoriesssss. It alwayssss workssss sssso much better when they are not aware of what issss to happen. Alassss, it meant his eventual death, for in draining his memories, it destroyed what was left." A pause. "Pray that you do not annoy me assss he did. I might forget which collar to pressssent you."

  The last brought a return to silence. Wellen exchanged glances with Xabene, but that was the extent of their communication. Escape was essential. The reptilian monarch's hint at their future had made that all too clear. Unlike the Green Dragon, this drake lord had no qualms about disposing of his guests on a whim.

  Shelf after shelf after shelf of book after book after book. All of them forming the accumulation of the gnome's millennia-old search for knowledge. Did any of them hold a key to their rescue? He would have liked to thumb through a few of the volumes, if only to see what was contained within.

  "Sssso much knowledge," the Dragon King commented in what might have been an admiring tone. "Will there be time for all of it?"

  For just that brief instant, the scholar and the Dragon King shared a desire.

  "There are no titles on the sssspinessss. How does one know what issss contained in what?"

  The question had bothered Wellen, too, but unless the drake chose to release Serkadion Manee now, he doubted he would ever find out.

  "Manling."

  As the Dragon King had not stopped, neither did Bedlam. He turned and waited for his captor to speak again.

  "Doessss thissss place sssseem almost alive to you?"

  He gave it some thought. "It wouldn't surprise me."

  "Agreed." Burning eyes darted from one bookshelf to the next. "Sssso many marvelssss . . ." The look of admiration died as the drake lord turned his gaze forward. "But the one I could do without issss thissss cursed, endlesssss hall!"

  The words no sooner escaped his lipless mouth then they saw a lone metal door in the distance. The
discovery was so abrupt that Wellen eyed the ensorcelled gnome with some suspicion. Did Serkadion Manee still have mastery over his former domain?

  The door, when they at last reached it, was a simple iron thing with only a handle. There was no lock, but then the ancient sorcerer had never needed one. Pausing, the party stared at the exit for several seconds. What lay on the other side only Serkadion Manee knew. After some silent debate, the Dragon King looked at the explorer. "You!" he hissed, thrusting a clawed finger at Wellen. "You will open it!"

  Bedlam stepped forward, knowing he had no choice. All he could do was pray as his fingers wrapped around the handle and pulled the door open.

  Xabene gasped.

  "Nothing . . ." murmured the Dragon King. "Almosssst a dissssappointment."

  His heart still pounding in his ears, Wellen surveyed what had been hidden behind the door. Only another hallway. No trap. No visible threat.

  Save perhaps to one's eyes. Evidently, Serkadion Manee had his whimsical moments, for there seemed no other explanation for the design and pattern of the place.

  They entered an immense hall that was a chess master's board run amok. The floor, the walls, and the rounded ceiling were all covered in a black and white pattern resembling one massive game board. There were no doors, save at the far, far end. Neither were there fixtures or decorations. Because of the pattern, it was even hard to tell where the floor ended and the walls began. WeIlen would not have been surprised if the party could have walked up one of the walls without even noticing the change.

  "What issss thissss new madness? My head poundssss jusssst sssstaring at it!" Purple, squinting, turned to his two mobile prisoners. "The female will go first, I think. A few paces ahead. Then you and I, manling. Side-by-side. If you should stray even a foot beyond my reach, I will act. I do not need to touch you to kill you."

  "I understand."

  A taloned finger scraped the stubble that was growing on the scholar's neck. "I am sure that you do."

  The trio started down the hall at a slow but steady pace. From his position, Wellen studied the profile of the horrific warrior. The Purple Dragon, marching along from square to square, looked like the soul survivor of some massive game in which he played both knight and king. The scholar pictured an entire board of such figures, with Serkadion Manee for some reason still coming to mind as the opposing lord. Xabene was a queen, but one whose side she was he had not figured out. As for his own position, Wellen could only see himself as a pawn in the middle.