Legends of the Dragonrealm: Volume 04

by Richard A. Knaak

  Bertran did as bade. “It did. Now what?”

  “Runes—runes on one side. Five in a row.” Cabe gasped. “Are there?”

  “Five. I see ‘em.”

  The wizard inhaled. “First and fifth. Touch them together. That should do it. Tap my head . . . lightly.”

  The strain grew overwhelming. Cabe’s head spun.

  Without warning, his agony diminished. It did not fade completely, but became far more tolerable.

  “Did that do it?” growled Marilee’s man. “Say something, spellcaster.”

  “Maybe you should hit him again,” someone suggested.

  “No!” The wizard drew back as best he could just in case his warning had come too late. He was not certain that another touch might not reverse matters again. Cabe could not say why its foul handiwork had not entirely ceased, but at least it appeared to be at a manageable level. “No . . . the staff’s magic has lessened. Eventually, it should fade away . . . I hope.”

  To not only prove his first point but discourage any thought that they might keep him under their control, he made his bonds turn to dust. One of the other men immediately threw a knife at Cabe, but he had been expecting just such a reaction. The blade froze in the air a few inches from his throat, then changed into a dozen blue and green glowing moths that scattered into the dark sky.

  “I trust that’ll be a sufficient display to deter any other notions of attacking me,” the wizard quietly remarked.

  Most of the others nodded quickly, but Bertran looked furious. He swung the staff at Cabe, at the same time snarling.

  Cabe softened the ground enough to make the large man’s boots sink up to the ankles, then solidified it. Bertran struggled in vain to reach him. In growing desperation, Bertran finally threw the Aramite device at his adversary. Fortunately, used so, the insidious creation was no danger. Cabe took pleasure in forcing the staff to turn head down and bury itself deep in the soil at his feet.

  He did not destroy it, aware that it might be needed in some manner. Cabe had no idea what had happened to Marilee and was not positive that she was even alive, but if she was, he might need the Aramite creation to rescue her.

  Bertran continued to rail at Cabe, but the rest were clearly subdued. The wizard stepped within the imprisoned man’s reach. Bertran swung at Cabe, only to have his fist stop in mid-air. Cabe sighed, admiring the other’s determination, but wishing that he would learn quicker.

  “I will still help you find her,” he told Bertran. “And the sooner you calm down, the sooner we can begin.”

  Reason finally returned to the man’s gaze, but he could still not simply accept the reversal of their positions. “All right. Just don’t try anything . . . ”

  “I won’t,” Cabe responded, holding back a brief moment of amusement. Then, the seriousness of the situation returned to his attention. “I need you to lead me back to where you took me. That’s all. When we’re close, you can return to the rest here.”

  Bertran shook his head violently. The tawny-haired man gritted his teeth. “I’m going with. We find her together.”

  There remained just enough of the staff’s influence to still give the wizard a headache even more aggravating than Bertran was proving to be. Bertran would be little more than a hindrance and possibly great trouble for Cabe if some force attacked the man during their quest, but the mage finally nodded. It was more and more clear that Bertran was deeply in love with Marilee and would sacrifice himself for her safety if necessary. That redeeming trait alone was enough for Cabe to take the risk.

  He would not leave the man unarmed, though. With a gesture, Cabe sent the staff flying back to Bertran’s grasp. As the latter stared in confusion at this offering of trust, Cabe turned in what he assumed was the general direction they had to head.

  A moment later, Bertran trotted a step ahead of him. With an anxious glance at the wizard, he murmured, “We turn right at that crooked tree . . . ”

  Cabe nodded, his mind already on beyond the crooked tree to where others trees, far more murderous ones, might already have Marilee.

  V

  There were voices around them, the voices of the long dead. While they frightened Marilee, she was still more familiar with them than her captor. The drake—the mighty warrior—was growing more agitated as the muttering increased.

  “What are they babbling about?” he demanded not for the first time.

  Her mouth bound, Marilee could hardly answer him. It gave her a slight bit of satisfaction to know that the drake was so disturbed, but it would hardly save her.

  She hung from one of the nearby trees, her legs tied together and her arms wrapped as much as possible behind her and around the trunk. In tying her up, the drake had nearly ripped her arms off. The strain was still making her tear up.

  When he had first begun his work, Marilee had hoped that the neighboring trees would somehow use the opportunity to seize the drake, but now that he appeared to know how better to wield the other artifact, the trees appeared unable to even reach within several yards of him. In fact, any tree as close as a dozen yards simply grew limp.

  What exactly the drake had in mind, Marilee did not know. She only hoped that Bertran had enough sense to turn to the wizard for help. They could always deal with Cabe Bedlam afterward.

  Marilee felt conflicted by her sudden hopes that the wizard would come to her aid. In some ways, she resented the mage for that even though he had done nothing. Marilee had grown up hearing the stories of the older survivors and learned to hate the wizard based on those stories. She did not like anything that contradicted that to which she was accustomed to believe was true.

  But if Cabe Bedlam did come rushing to her rescue, she would be very, very grateful.

  A savage crackling drowned out all other noise. Marilee recognized the sound of a terrible fire . . . but there was no sign, not even a hint of smoke.

  The drake whirled around, clearly seeking the source. He swore when it became apparent to him that this was merely another ghostly memory of the city’s fall.

  “Thisss isss a place of madnesss I will be happy to be rid of.” He kept the device gripped tight. Even with little more than one hand, the imposing warrior had been able to easily handle Marilee by first tying her securely while she lay pinned face down by his knee, then tossing the rope he had evidently salvaged from his dead mount over the branches and hoisting her up. There had been two incidents when his hold on the device had been precarious, but to Marilee’s disappointment, the drake had managed retain his grip.

  Beyond the range of the protective effects, the trees stretched as best they could toward the intruders. Marilee did not trust that those branches would leave her be, which left her praying that the drake would not station himself too far from her.

  Her captor intended a straightforward trap for the wizard, its effectiveness in its simplicity. She was the bait. Even more than Marilee, the drake hoped—nay, was certain—that Cabe Bedlam would come. Then, that same device that kept the ghostly forces at bay would supposedly do the same against the legendary mage’s power.

  And then the drake would use the very long, very sharp sword he kept at his side.

  The whispers grew in intensity again. Marilee thought she made out a few random words, but before she could make sense of them, the area grew bright with flame.

  The drake cursed and instinctively drew his weapon. Only as that happened did both he and Marilee see that although the fire burned strong, the trees remained untouched.

  The city is reliving its final throes, she realized, feeling Mito Pica’s suffering. Marilee had witnessed several supernatural visions during her pilgrimages to her former home, but there was something different happening. It was as if Mito Pica’s dead were stirring as they never had before.

  With another frustrated hiss, the drake sheathed his sword. “Thisss city should ssstay dead inssstead of crying ssso much.”

  Marilee felt her blood boil at the callous remark. Her parents, her brother and si
ster, and so many others had been slaughtered out of hand. She fought against her bonds in a futile attempt to reach the warrior.

  Her attempts only earned his mockery. “Ssstruggle hard! Let the wizard sssee and hear that you live . . . that he can ssstill sssave you!”

  Marilee’s gag cut off her epithet.

  The eerie fire ceased as abruptly as it began. The trees to the south ceased thrashing.

  Another low chuckle echoed in her ears. “And even your pathetic ghostsss play to my advantage! They announce hisss arrival asss good asss a loud war horn!”

  He slipped between the trees, vanishing from her sight. Marilee twisted as best she could in order to see the wizard’s arrival. She had to give warning.

  The other trees stilled. A silence more unnerving than the all the visions Marilee had thus far experienced tonight covered the area.

  And then, ever so slowly, a dark-haired human figure approached from the darkness. Marilee made out enough of the face to recognize Cabe Bedlam. The wizard was not as tall as she recalled and he moved with a hint of hesitation. Even the great mage seemed small compared to the cursed souls haunting the forest.

  Marilee shook her head, but he did not notice the warning. Her muffled cry also failed to gain any reaction.

  Cabe Bedlam remained a half-shadowed figure as he neared, but Marilee could still not believe how youthful the man looked. She had only glanced at the mage previously before her own capture. This latest irony did not escape her; Cabe Bedlam not only lived while hundreds of others had perished, but he also had the benefit of enjoying the bloom of life longer than most humans.

  Her bitterness quickly faded as the wizard drew closer yet. He looked around as if searching for something even though Marilee was quite visible. The man was walking into an obvious trap. She wondered if he was that confident in his power and, if so, would that prove to be a fatal mistake?

  Painfully aware of the range of the drake’s possession, Marilee noted when Cabe Bedlam paused just a few yards beyond. She tried to give some sort of warning not to advance, but he continued to utterly ignore her. Marilee tipped her head in the direction that her captor had hidden, only to have the wizard turn away from her to look at something else.

  The drake attacked . . . leaping out from a location behind Cabe Bedlam. He easily wielded the sharp blade with one hand while keeping the other a tight fist.

  With one mighty stroke, the drake cut a deadly arc across Cabe Bedlam’s throat.

  The sword slashed through without pause. Marilee tried to scream.

  Cabe Bedlam dissipated.

  “What by the Dragon of the Depthsss?” rasped the drake as he recovered his balance.

  A sound like a crack of thunder made both look in the direction from which the apparition had come. In the gloom, they saw a huge tree with long, draping branches toppling toward them.

  Marilee struggled to escape, but the drake simply stood his ground. He stared at the oncoming tree with clear disdain.

  She realized that he thought it another apparition, like the flames.

  But as the falling tree neared, the drake obviously realized his error. He tried to fling himself away, but did not succeed. As the tree crashed, the massive crown engulfed Marilee’s captor.

  At the same time, the limbs of the tree where she was bound twitched despite there being no wind. Marilee stilled, hoping that she was not about to join the drake’s fate.

  The limbs paused. When after several seconds they did not move, Marilee dared take a breath and try to make sense of the situation. Despite previous evidence and the drake’s assurances, the ghostly presence in the forest had finally managed to overcome the device. True, the tree had fallen from beyond the thing’s protective range, circumventing its power, but the illusion of Cabe Bedlam could have had only one source.

  Yet, the illusion confused her in another manner. She had never heard tales of the ghosts doing such things. This bespoke of a conscious, active mind. Marilee considered the fact that it might actually have been the wizard’s work after all, but when first one minute, then another, and then another passed without Cabe Bedlam’s grand entrance, she dismissed that notion.

  There was no movement from the crown. Marilee hoped that the drake was dead, but knew how hardy the race was. She struggled against her bonds again and finally felt some slight loosening.

  A woman screamed.

  Marilee jerked her head toward the sound. Once more she beheld the woman in the gown. The other female knelt as if trying to pick up a small bundle.

  There was no other sound, but suddenly the gowned woman whirled as if discovered. She put her hands up in protest and in doing so revealed her face to Marilee again.

  As before her eyes glittered as if crystal.

  There was a shout from the south. Marilee recognized Bertran’s voice and forgot all about drakes and apparitions.

  But her pleasure at his arrival dampened when she saw who was with him. Marilee’s earlier hope that the wizard would come to her rescue faded, replaced by the hatred built up over the years.

  Bertran rushed up to her, the big man dropping what she recognize as the staff used to subdue Cabe Bedlam and trying with his bare hands to tear her free.

  “Step away from her,” the wizard ordered.

  Bertran obeyed. Cabe Bedlam stepped near Marilee.

  The slight rustling of leaves made Marilee look beyond both men to sudden movement at the crown. She tried to give a warning, but the gag prevented her from making more than a moan.

  “Something’s dampening my power,” the mage informed Bertran. “I think I can free her, but it’ll take me a moment more.”

  The rustling increased, but neither of her would-be rescuers noticed. Cabe Bedlam shut his eyes in concentration.

  Summoning all her strength, Marilee screamed as best as the gag allowed her.

  But her cry was drowned out by the clash of arms and the cries of several beasts. Bertran and the wizard joined her in peering to the east . . . where suddenly a horde of earth-brown drakes as aglow as the gowned maiden rushed forward seeking battle.

  VI

  The scene upon which Cabe had arrived had proven to be a curious one. He and Bertran had heard the crashing tree and feared the worst for Marilee, only to find her bound but whole.

  No ghost had seized the young woman, that was obvious. As to who her captor had been, Marilee would be able to answer that. Of course, seeing where the tree lay, Cabe had suspected the point was moot.

  It should have been simple for him to release the woman, but Cabe’s first spell faded even before it could come to fruition. He knew it was not the work of the staff and wondered if the supernatural presence in the forest had something to do with it.

  Focusing his concentration, the wizard had attempted another spell on the captive . . . and that was when the drakes had come charging through the trees.

  It took Cabe only a moment to realize that these were not living, breathing warriors, but apparitions. They glowed of their own accord and some literally charged through those trees. Yet, what more struck him was the coloring of these drakes. They were of an earthy shade, marking of them of a clan not only far flung from this land, but one that had already been decimated two hundred years earlier during the ill-fated Turning War.

  And certainly not a clan that had had anything to do with with razing of Mito Pica.

  The ethereal warriors vanished. Cabe hesitated for a second, then returned his attention to Marilee. This time, the ropes fell away. Bertran caught the woman, then helped her get her footing. The big man was slow to release his hold and Marilee did not rush him.

  Then, her eyes widened. Pushing past Bertran, she pointed at the fallen tree’s massive crown. “He’s still alive! He’s still alive!”

  Cabe glared at the crown. Nothing dampened his spell this time. The leaves burst from the branches and the branches twisted away, revealing what lay beneath.

  Nothing.

  Marilee looked around. “He’s got
to be near—”

  The wizard cursed himself for underestimating their mysterious adversary. “He’s not human, is he?”

  “No! It was a drake—”

  “The color of iron, I assume.” After she nodded, Cabe shut his eyes and concentrated. He could not sense the drake’s nearby presence, but suspected he knew the reason. “Did he carry some artifact, some talisman?”

  Marilee nodded. Cabe did not bother to ask what it looked like. That it was of wolf raider make like the staff would make sense. The Aramite sorcerers needed gold to finance their efforts and more than a few of their macabre creations had made their way to the Dragonrealm.

  He noticed that both of his companions were eyeing him with increasing suspicion. Cabe sighed, understanding that their long-bred hatred of him was on the rise again now that they were under the mistaken belief that the drake had fled. Retreat he had, but the warrior was still near. If the drake managed to survive the forest, he would seek once more to fulfill his mission . . . which Cabe knew was his death.

  The forest . . . to the wizard, of more importance than either the would-be assassin or the vengeful survivors of Mito Pica was what was happening to the forest itself. Why are there apparitions that have no relation to the city’s destruction?

  Given the moment to think without incessant pain coursing through him or the need to rush to rescue someone, Cabe knew the answer. It was one that both made perfect sense and yet startled him as few things could.

  He started in the direction from which the drake horde had charged, only to have the Aramite staff suddenly thrust before his face.

  “Stop right there,” Marilee growled, the weapon now in her possession. Behind her, Bertran looked torn. Cabe had saved the woman Bertran loved, but her bitterness toward the mage was evidently stronger than her gratitude.

  “That’s ill-advised,” Cabe muttered.

  “You saved my life, but that doesn’t make up for the hundreds of others lost here, including my parents—”