Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  “By Vramon! Do that again and—demon or no demon!—I’ll run you through!”

  Ignoring the futile threat, Darkhorse demanded, “General! What are

  these soldiers doing here?”

  “Think I don’t keep track of the our wizards’ activities? I smelled something amiss and convinced the king to let me take a more tried-and-true method of hunting down these missing people! After questioning his pet wizards, I calculated that the north was the more likely target and it looks like I was correct! This is a Gordagian problem and it’ll be solved by Gordagians, demon, whether you and Master Bedlam like it or not!”

  The eternal snorted. “This is high sorcery, general! I was myself attacked and your mage Den is missing! For that matter, I have not been able to contact either my friend or the young woman Hala!”

  “Then it’s even better that we’ve come!”

  “Better? Have you heard nothing I have said? Mortal, there is magic afoot here of the likes even I would not have expected! Your toy warriors will be nothing to it! You must turn around and—”

  “Turn around?” The bearded officer looked aghast. “Gordagians do not turn and flee like rabbits!”

  With that, he urged his reluctant mount forward, guiding his troops around the blue-robed figure.

  Darkhorse snorted, but from much past experience knew when it was fruitless to talk to some humans. He himself had a legendary propensity for rushing headlong into danger, but even he recognized the risk inherent here. Someone who wielded magic with as much skill as their unknown adversaries did would hardly be daunted by the column. All Majjin would do was get himself and his men slain.

  Turning about, the shadow steed raced past the soldiers, vanishing far ahead. Whatever the threat, he had to meet it first. Not just for the sake of the Gordagians, but for the missing wizards . . . especially Cabe.

  He only hoped he was not already too late.

  Cabe had never been so clear on the focus of his existence. He had never understood his duty so plainly.

  The drakes, and those who would prevent their demise, were to be destroyed. That was it. At Master Tragaro’s command, he would summon the full might he possessed and squash any enemy.

  Cabe stared at the empty air, knowing his cause was just. He had to make up for the treachery and mistakes of his family. He had to make amends for Nathan, who had led his compatriots into disaster, killing most in the process. Cabe also had to rectify the evil perpetrated by Azran, who had slain Yalak and others, then abandoned the rest at the most crucial of points during the war.

  Because of the Bedlams, Tragaro’s fellow wizards had perished. Such crimes demanded justice, and by serving Tragaro utterly, Cabe would see that justice was done.

  “M-Master Bedlam?”

  The tentative voice registered as more of an annoying buzz at first. Cabe chose to ignore it, wanting his mind clear for Tragaro’s magical summons.

  “Master Bedlam! Please! It’s me! Den!”

  The ensorcelled wizard’s brow furrowed as he tried to push the voice away. However, something deep within him stirred, something that urged him to listen.

  “You must hear me! Quick! I don’t know how long before he realizes that I’m not under his control!”

  Cabe blinked, the first time he had done so since staring into the pale eyes.

  “Master Bedlam! Speak to me! His mesmerism didn’t hold for me, I think, because of my poor eyes! I lost my lenses! I’m not powerful like you, just lucky! You have to have the strength! You must be able to break free of his enchantment!”

  The urge to reply grew more powerful. Question arose, uncertainties as to why he so wished to follow blindly the dictates of Tragaro.

  “Master—” Den suddenly cut off with a strangled cry.

  “I sensed an emptiness where there should be obedience. I sensed a will where there should only be my desire.”

  The gurgling grew more frantic.

  Cabe felt a sudden urge to look, but his eyes would not obey. The Dragon Master had not given him a command, after all.

  “Occasionally, there are those who lapse or cannot be trained,” the harsh voice went on. “They are a distraction to the rest. Therefore, they are removed.”

  Den cried out. A strange, crackling sound hurt Cabe’s ears. His nostrils vaguely detected a burning odor.

  After a short silence, Master Tragaro’s masked face filled his view. The eyes snared Cabe’s own.

  “All is as it should be. Clear your mind of any other concerns. Your only need is to obey my commands . . . ”

  The questions all but ceased. Only a slight uncertainty refused to die, but it was so tiny that, at the moment, even Cabe did not notice it.

  Tragaro suddenly pulled away, his gaze looking to the side. “What’s that?” he said to the emptiness. “Show me!”

  After a long pause, he looked again at his latest addition to the ranks.

  Cabe awaited his word.

  The Dragon Master gave it. “The abysmal fools! They would save the lives of drakes by their actions! Therefore, they ally themselves with the reptiles! It is by their own choice they must suffer!” To Cabe, he added, “And it is time to begin paying for the sins of the Bedlams! The Twins are ascendant! Your power will be at its peak! Follow me!”

  Without hesitation, Cabe obeyed.

  VIII

  Unlike the Gordagians, Darkhorse chose to move with more stealth. He had learned his lesson and knew his foes to be crafty. If they had captured or slain Cabe, they were among the darkest and deadliest he had ever known.

  A creature formed of a magic, he could meld into the land. More important, he now focused all his power on evading detection, creating a shield he hoped that would make him a blank to anyone watching.

  That he also sensed nothing of Cabe disturbed Darkhorse. That a mage as capable as his friend could be so easily overwhelmed did not bode well. They had confronted a variety of evils in their time together and while both had nearly perished more than once, matters had always come to a good end.

  Now, Darkhorse was not so certain.

  Beyond the pass, the eternal slowed. He could sense traces of magic here and there, peculiar traces that were different from one another yet also the same. Curious, he probed them deeper, with the same results. They were and were not the same signature.

  Then Darkhorse sensed a much more welcome trace, that of Cabe. It was faint, almost completely faded, but identifiable.

  And it drifted amidst all the rest.

  He was surrounded, Darkhorse decided. Still, from what he could judge of the other traces, they lacked the intensity he would have expected of powerful spellcasters. True, together they represented a respectable level of ability and strength, but certainly not sufficient against the Cabe Bedlam.

  So what had happened?

  Scarcely had he delved more, though, when he sensed the casting of a major spell. Not near him, but rather further south, likely within the pass—

  The pass through which General Majjin and his troops now journeyed.

  Darkhorse nearly teleported himself there immediately, so anxious was he to warn the humans. Then it occurred to him that to do so would be to announce himself to whoever had cast the spell. For the sake of everyone, the shadow steed had to keep his own escape as secret as he could.

  He raced back, utilizing swiftness no ordinary equine could match. The trees were blurs, the land a vague flash of images. Darkhorse ran as he had never run before.

  And as he ran, a feeling of dread spread over him . . .

  Tragaro’s new Dragon Masters materialized throughout the two sides of the Myridian Pass, unblinking eyes fixed on the approaching column below. Although scattered for some distance, they might as well have been standing shoulder-to-shoulder, so well-linked were they to one another.

  At the forefront, Tragaro had placed his most favored ‘pupils’—Hala, the young man Genin, and the one who would be the experienced hand who wielded their combined might . . . Cabe Bedlam.
>
  As for their master, the elder wizard remained within the ruined chamber, eyes within the mask alight with anticipation. The dragon had been a tremendous test, yes, but this would be the first in the field. This would prove to him their readiness. The ease and swiftness with which they destroyed the column would tell Tragaro whether they were ready to strike at the crumbling confederation of drake clans to the west.

  He had little doubt of the outcome. Without the Bedlam, it would have proven more troublesome, but with him there was no question.

  The niggling sensation rose anew in Cabe’s head as the Gordagian column neared. Cabe was certain of his task, for it had been given to him by Master Tragaro, but a tiny part of him protested. That protest grew, especially when he felt the others begin to meld their minds together in preparation for giving their united power to him.

  They interfere with the planned destruction of the drakes, came Tragaro’s thoughts. They must therefore share the drakes’ fate.

  He understood that to be fact. It made perfect sense. The protesting dwindled again.

  At the head of the column, Cabe made out a face vaguely familiar to him. A bearded officer. The man looked this way and that, clearly wary of his surroundings, but willing to push on despite that wariness.

  It would be a fatal mistake.

  Raising his arms, Cabe prepared his spell. At the same time, he felt the others begin to feed him their might.

  Near his feet, loose pebbles began to quiver. The quivering spread, touching other loose rocks and stones farther and farther away—and in the direction of the encroaching soldiers.

  Hala and Genin stepped beside him, linking to Cabe and further increasing the intensity of the spell he cast. Now the ground shook with more vigor, enough so that those below at last became aware of something amiss.

  But as Hala’s mind touched Cabe’s, something else happened. An image briefly filled his thoughts, an image of a young, studious wizard—lenses perched on his nose—trying to awaken him from some nightmare.

  “Den?” he murmured.

  The vision faded, but in its wake it left more uncertainty. Cabe hesitated, the spell faltering.

  Tragaro’s imposing presence touched him instantly.

  Bedlam! They approach! Let the mountains fall upon them!

  Cabe fell back into the rhythm of the spell. The ground shook with more vehemence. Loose boulders and rubble tumbled toward the Gordagians.

  The bearded commander looked up, made out the several figures high above. He shouted something to his men and several tried to ride toward the towering ridges, but the tremors drove them back.

  This is not right! This is murder! a voice in his head cried.

  He belatedly realized it was his own.

  And at last Cabe Bedlam truly stirred from Tragaro’s spell.

  Swinging his hands palm back to each side, he struck both Hala and Genin in the chest with simple but effective bolts of raw force.

  With cries of startlement, the two flew back several yards, landing hard. Hala lay prone, but Genin attempted to rise.

  Cabe sent another bolt his direction.

  They were not dead, not even badly injured. Tragaro had made puppets of them and Cabe had no desire to slay innocents if he could prevent it.

  Of course, that did not mean that the innocents might not try to slay him.

  Tragaro did not wait to respond to Cabe’s betrayal. Suddenly the rest of his ‘flock’ refocused their combined energies, turning them instead on the more dangerous enemy in their midst.

  The ground beneath the wizard’s feet transformed, becoming a giant hand that sought to crush him in its grasp.

  Before the fingers could close, though, a swift black form flew past, snagging Cabe and dragging him off.

  With a toss of his head, Darkhorse set his human friend atop his back, then turned to avoid a horrendous shower of icicles that nearly perforated both of them.

  “Darkhorse!” Cabe gasped as he clutched the shadow steed’s mane. “He said you were trapped!”

  “There is not the trap that can hold me—not without a little help from friends, of course!” The stallion sobered. “Young Den somehow worked to reach out to me from afar, paving the way for my freedom!”

  “Den . . . Darkhorse . . . Den is dead! He tried to free me, but Tragaro murdered him!”

  Cabe had rarely known the eternal to miss a step, but Darkhorse did so now. “Tragaro? Impossible! Tragaro is dead!”

  “He seemed very much alive, although with that mask I can’t say what condition his face was left in!”

  “Ma sk?”

  “A bronze one with an evil mirth to it. You can see his pale eyes and mouth through it.”

  Darkhorse paused atop a ridge, gaze not on Cabe but the robed figures turning to face them again. “The eyes sound like Tragaro’s, but I am certain he perished! I am certain I saw his corpse!”

  Their debate ended abruptly as the ridge upon which they were perched suddenly gave way, the hard rock turned to soft, useless sand. Darkhorse leapt away. Cabe noticed and appreciated that the ebony stallion consistently steered Tragaro’s novice Dragon Masters away from General Majjin’s troops.

  “This must end!” Darkhorse roared. “Yet I don’t wish to harm these if I can! They are pawns of another!”

  “I agree, but if we need to hurt them to keep this from going further, we’ll have to! We can’t risk more lives, not the Gordagians nor even the drakes!”

  The ice-blue eyes of the stallion studied the robed youths. “Are they truly any danger to us when we are together, Cabe?”

  “By themselves, no, but Tragaro is linked to them and he amplifies any threat a hundredfold!”

  “I feared you would say that. We may have to slay some of them yet.”

  Den’s screams flashed through the wizard’s head once more. Cabe could not allow any more to suffer or die. “No . . . not if I can help it. I think we need to split up again.”

  “Not a wise move.”

  “Listen to me! I need you to keep them at bay, prevent them from either leaving or casting any spells at Majjin and his men!”

  The shadow steed’s head twisted around to stare into Cabe’s eyes. “And what is it you intend to do in the meantime?”

  Cabe’s set his mouth tight. “I’m going to face our masked friend.”

  “Folly! We should face him together!”

  “He’ll either summon the others back or use the moment to destroy the Gordagians! Either way, innocents will perish!”

  “And if you go alone, you might!”

  But the wizard’s mind was made up. “Keep things going here and he’ll either be forced to split his efforts or concentrate solely on me. If he does the latter, then you’ll have a chance to rescue those he’s ensorcelled.”

  “Cabe—”

  “No more arguing.” Cabe focused on what he recalled of Tragaro’s domain. The clearer the image, the more certain he was of materializing in the right location. “I’ve got to go now!”

  “Beware! Your grandfather Nathan considered Tragaro a most accomplished Dragon Master!”

  As he vanished, Cabe managed to call back, “Then, I’ll just have to be better . . . ”

  IX

  Once again, a Bedlam had betrayed him. Once again, the cleansing of the land had been thwarted—at least for a time. The dream of a realm free of dragons was his only purpose, the only reason he had persevered so long.

  Tragaro rose from the ruined throne, gnarled hands cupped together in anticipation. This Bedlam assumed himself as clever as Nathan or Azran.

  He was about to discover that Tragaro was cleverer by far than all three.

  Cabe choked back a gasp, but not because of the stench. He had been prepared for the odious smell of the decaying dragon, but what he had not been prepared for was the blackened, crisp skeleton almost at his feet.

  The final, charred remains of Den.

  Disgust and regret gave way to anger. Den had done nothing more than try to save
Cabe and Darkhorse. Tragaro had burned him alive simply for that.

  “Such emotion. Its like brought the Dragon Masters down and left the lands in the claws of the drakes for another two centuries.”

  “I knew you were about,” Cabe said without turning. “I assumed you wanted to announce yourself dramatically. It seems your way.”

  He sensed the spell as Tragaro cast it and quickly turned to counter. The shining silver shield came up just as the rocky projectiles struck. The stalactites and stalagmites shattered, showering both mages with rock.

  Tragaro immediately gestured. The projectiles’ remnants reformed around Cabe in an attempt to entomb him.

  Without even a movement, the younger wizard dispersed the fragments again.

  “I also assumed you’d try something like that,” Cabe remarked, nodding his head toward the massive corpse. “since it worked so well before.”

  “I merely test your skills, Bedlam. You answer some questions.” The smile within the smile stretched menacingly. “Now I begin in earnest.”

  The stone floor beneath Cabe’s feet suddenly cracked open. A hot gust of wind rising up barely warned him in time of what was to follow.

  As Cabe threw himself to the side, a burst of molten lava shot up, striking the high ceiling.

  The surface on which Cabe had landed suddenly liquefied. His right foot sank in to the shin. He tried to push himself up, only to have his hand sink as well. When he tried to pull either free, it was to find both mired completely.

  “I am a Dragon Master . . . ” Tragaro quietly uttered as he approached the floundering form. “ . . . and you . . . you are not even worthy of the name Bedlam.”

  Cabe sank beneath the liquid stone.

  “Not even worthy at—”

  Tragaro raised his arm over his masked face as the black tar suddenly flew up and over him. The Dragon Master vanished under the torrent.

  Face grim, Cabe rose from the hole created by his surprise assault and searched for his adversary. Yet, as the liquid stone splattered to the floor and resolidified, it left no trace whatsoever of the other spellcaster. As quick as Cabe had countered Tragaro’s vile work, so, too, had the dark wizard reacted in defending himself.