Dragonmage of Mystara dom-3

by Thorarinn Gunnarsson

  "Not since the last time you asked," Solveig replied, with no hint in her expression about whether she was amused. She paused a moment while Taeryn set her plate before her. "You don't miss Thelvyn, do you?"

  "I just recall that he did not have much cause to think well of me the last time we spoke," Alessa admitted. "I've come to think that I would like to amend that. Do you ever regret that

  you didn't go with them?"

  "From time to time," Solveig answered. "But mostly as a matter of curiosity. Then I remind myself where they were going, and that cures me. I'm not ready for the company of dragons, especially dragons who don't yet think much of Thelvyn and even less of his friends. I wonder if he's already found a way to break the spell that has always prevented him from assuming his true dragon form, or if that still is years away. I wonder what he looks like as a dragon, and if he's happier that way."

  "Do you suppose that we'll ever see him again, or does his fate now entirely rest with the dragons?"

  Solveig made a small helpless gesture. "I can't say for certain, but I suspect that we'll see him soon enough. Somehow I feel that all this business with the dragons is not yet finished, that there are still matters remaining unsettled."

  They waited while Taeryn brought in glasses and a bottle of wine, then took out a corkscrew to pull the cork. Taeryn took a special delight in this particular task, and they were not about to interrupt. He extracted the cork deftly, and it slipped out with a satisfying pop.

  "I would very much like to see Kharendaen again," he commented as he poured the wine. "She was a very nice dragon. Very polite."

  "I wonder how polite she would be if she knew that you've been stabling griffons in her lair," Alessa observed. "And speaking of griffons, I was thinking that it must be about time for Darius Glantri to visit again. That's why I wondered if he were here tonight. It's been a while."

  "Perhaps it has," Solveig agreed vaguely.

  "So what about Darius?" Alessa continued. "How can the two of you have any meaningful relationship if weeks and weeks go by between visits from halfway across a continent? I know Darius visits every chance he gets, on the pretext of delivering important messages, but usually he's here only one night before he has to go home. You've never told me much about the relationship between the two of you, but if he's willing to go through that much trouble to visit you, something serious must be happening. You grew up in Thyatis, didn't you? Have you ever thought about going back? Might he consider coming here?"

  "You're inquisitive tonight," Solveig remarked evasively.

  "Are you going to avoid the question?"

  "I don't know," she was forced to admit. "I've always thought that I would go back to Thyatis someday, but I can't abandon my responsibilities here in the Highlands any time soon. Darius and I both have important duties in our own lands, duties that we can't forsake at a time when all the known world is in such an unsettled state."

  "What drove you away in the first place?" Alessa asked, then hastened to interrupt Solveig before she could answer. "I know the story people tell about how your barbarian heart just longed to be free, and also how you were sold into slavery by the northlanders and bought by one of the first families of Thyatis so that they would have a daughter to present to society. But I've always had the feeling that you left Thyatis for someone's peace of mind, and I'm not certain it was your own."

  Solveig frowned. "Actually, that's the exact reason. As I was growing up, I realized that everything I was being taught was to prepare me to be the type of person my adopted parents expected me to be. And being naturally rebellious and contrary, I of course wanted to do exactly the opposite. Since I was supposed to be gentile, I wanted to be a warrior. Since I was supposed to be dignified and respectable, I wanted to be an unsavory adventurer. When I found out that my father was already planning my marriage to someone who would be an advantage to the family, I decided to get out of Thyatis until I was too old to be married away."

  "And then Darius Glantri came along," Alessa observed.

  "Yes, that's the irony of it. In the course of being everything I wasn't supposed to be, I actually found a Thyatian who is a far more prestigious match than my father could have ever arranged for me. But what about you? Let's discuss your personal life for a while."

  "I don't have one," Alessa said with a hint of honest regret. "That's the problem with my profession. I only have my spell-book to keep me company at night."

  "If you don't have anything else to distract you, I was wondering if you've discovered anything new about the Collar of the Dragons," Solveig said, pouring herself another glass of wine. "I keep thinking, now that winter has passed, the dragons could be coming back here at any time wanting to know what we've done about finding their collar. The last I heard, you were certain that Kalestraan must have had some part in stealing it."

  "Not only that, but I'm also fairly sure that he was the one who hid it," Alessa said, then smiled in almost comic self-sat-isfaction. "In fact, I've run across one of Kalestraan's secrets just tonight. I don't know if it will help us find the collar, but it's the only possible clue I've managed to find in a long while. I'll need a little time to probe the secrets of this thing safely."

  "If the dragons come back, I don't know how understanding they'll be about our excuses."

  "Do you think Thelvyn would intercede on our behalf?" Alessa asked.

  "I don't have much hope that he would be able to. He's never been very popular with the dragons, and I don't even know if he's found the way to become one himself by now. Even if he has, he'll need some time to assert his authority among his own kind."

  The end of the war with the dragons had left things rather unsettled. Once Marthaen, the leader of the dragons, had revealed Thelvyn's hidden heritage as a gold dragon and destroyed his trust and support among his allies, the dragons had simply withdrawn. Whether or not they considered their complaint with the Flaem resolved was uncertain, but they would probably be willing to defer their other complaints if the Collar of the Dragons was returned. At least Alessa now had some hope of finding the collar, if only she could force the jewel to reveal its secrets.

  Alessa was still considering that very question later that night when she rode home in her carriage. But once she was walking slowly through the dark and silent corridors of the Academy, another matter began to intrude upon her thoughts. The strange, soft voice returned, speaking in words too distant for her to hear, forcing itself slowly yet relentlessly upon her.

  She ignored it at first, as she had often done in the past weeks. After changing into a robe, she tried again to spend some time with her spellbook. She had to spend several hours each day learning and relearning her spells, since the price of working magic was the memorization of spells. She had trained herself years ago to be religious about spending daily time with her spellbook.

  But the voice of the jewel continued to call to her. Alessa did her best to ignore it, having left the stone on the table by her bed, but once again she found the distraction was too great. The effort it took to ignore the voice was disturbing her concentration, and she realized after some time that she had learned nothing. She gave it up at last, closing the book and returning it to its hiding place. Picking up the jewel from the table by her bed, she brought it over to the light of the lamp at her reading desk.

  This was the first chance she had to inspect the jewel closely, since her original intention had been to leave it alone until she had the chance to research the matter and prepare protections. She still didn't dare to probe its secrets magically, but she thought that there could be little danger in simply looking. She laid it down on the desk just the same, careful not to touch it at the same time that she was staring at it intently. Only then did she see that, while the stone had little more beauty than a piece of colored glass, it was indeed a cut jewel of some unknown type. But it was definitely not a ruby.

  A moment later, she felt the pull of the jewel, like a slight touch at the edge of her awareness. She dr
ew back in sudden terror of the thing, almost more by instinct than by conscious choice. But in the same moment, she knew that the stone, or the will behind it, had not been trying to trap her but was merely exploring with a delicate touch. All it wanted, at least for now, was to know who she was. Just the same, Alessa was not about to take any chances. As a sorceress of some experience, she knew a great deal about magical traps designed to ensnare not the body but the mind or even the soul of the unwary.

  Just to be certain that the jewel would remain harmless, she took it into the adjoining room, which served as her office, and hid it inside the top drawer of a cabinet. She was determined not to look at it again until she had researched the matter to determine what type of magical artifact the jewel was and how she could most safely approach it. Then she returned to her own room and prepared for bed, leaving such mysteries for the next day.

  The dreams came again that night, as they often had since the mysterious voice had first begun calling to her. Once again she found herself in that strange, cold desert land, where an icy wind drove sheets of gray, dusty sand. She could feel neither the cold nor the sting of the wind-whipped sand in her dream, but odd, distant memories told her that the feel of such things had once been very familiar to her. The sun was dim and pale, obscured by the gray dust passing like thin, dark clouds high above. There was something very old and familiar about this raw, dying world, but its familiarity was hardly comforting. She felt rather that this could be some forgotten nightmare world that she hadn't visited in a very long time, and she dreaded her return with a deep, cold fear.

  Visions passed before her, or perhaps it was more accurate to say that she passed before the visions, since she had the impression she was looking down on them from a great height, as if she were flying. She saw mountains so broken and desolate that only a few small, twisted trees managed to push their way between broken stones. Lakes and seas of sand passed below her, and plains of crushed stone. Then she saw, through a momentary parting of the haze of dust, great fortresses as large as cities. In a few sheltered places between the ridges and peaks, armies of slaves fought to maintain fields of green. In the fields, she saw people of races she did not know and beasts the likes of which she had never seen.

  Once again the clouds of gray dust closed about her, and the next thing she knew, she was standing alone in some strange place. It might have been a chamber of vast size, made of cut stone like the floor beneath her. But the dust had become a cold, dark mist that drifted and swirled slowly, obscuring everything. She could neither see nor hear anyone, but she could sense the menacing presence of many strange, powerful beings gathered about her. In growing fear, she would have run, but she sensed that there was nowhere she could run that she would not encounter the powerful beings who surrounded her.

  With her heart pounding, Alessa waited, not daring to move from the small pocket of open space in the center of the chamber. After some time, she began to see the glimmer of large eyes peering at her from out of the mist. Then faces began to emerge from the darkness, long, narrow faces, like those of dragons. And yet they were unlike dragons, for they seemed not to be living creatures but carved or cut from precious stones. She could not recall ever seeing anything like these creatures, whether in half-remembered dreams or in obscure tomes of magic. They did not seem to be evil, but she had the distinct impression that they considered her so far beneath themselves that they would use her to serve their own purposes without regard for her welfare. Certainly this had not been a part of any of her previous dreams, and yet even these creatures seemed vaguely familiar.

  After a short time, the alien dragons drew back into the dark obscurity of the mist. As great and powerful as they were, she sensed that even they were afraid, and now she began to feel even more frightened. She looked up, and for an instant, she beheld a glimpse of another face, never emerging completely from the mist before it withdrew slowly into the darkness. That face was also vaguely like that of a dragon but considerably different from the others. It was much wider, with a short, powerful snout, and it was of such massive size that the body it belonged to would have to be three or four times larger than any dragon she had ever seen. While the face of a dragon was often lean and noble, even wise, this face was brutish and hideous, filling her with terror. Even after it had drawn back into the mist, the great, menacing eyes continued to glitter like sparks of red light from the darkness, holding her in their fierce, calculating gaze.

  The surroundings faded into complete darkness, although the glare of those terrible eyes lingered for a long moment after everything else had faded into blackness. She felt an odd awareness, as if her mind and will were now awake, even though her body continued to sleep. And while she seemed to be alone, she knew that she was not. That mysterious, almost godlike being maintained its contact with her mind, although she was now aware of just how distant it really was, as if it were not even a part of her own world. Then it spoke, and with a shock, she recognized it as the voice that had been calling to her.

  Sleep now, and in your dreams tell me who you are.

  Alessa's response seemed to form itself out of her own memories, without any need on her own part to consciously form a response. She was Alessa Vyledaar, now one of the most experienced Fire Wizards in all the Highlands and the leader of her order since the death of Byen Kalestraan and many other traitor wizards the previous summer. She was quite young for a sorceress of such high rank, the daughter of a family of lesser nobility. She had traveled outside the Highlands in the past, and she had been considering going out into the rest of the world again, admittedly to serve her own ambition, when events had brought her to her present state.

  Sleep, and in your dreams tell me what became of Byen Kalestraan.

  The memories of those desperate days of the previous summer seemed almost to be wrenched from her mind. Even as the Highlands had been preparing for war with the dragons, Kalestraan had sent her to assist the Dragonlord, but her true purpose had been to serve as a spy within his own house. She had known that Kalestraan was planning to seize control of the Highlands in some bold scheme; she had betrayed the mage to the Dragonlord, although her motive had been to further her personal schemes.

  But it had been too late, for Kalestraan struck that very night. Assuming the form of a dragon, he had invaded the palace and had slain King Jherridan. And there he had waited, preparing a trap by which he intended to destroy the Dragonlord, removing his last rival to command of the Highlands. But he had either overestimated his own power or underestimated the power of the Dragonlord. The trap had failed. Kalestraan had been defeated and destroyed, and in the process revealed as a traitor and murderer.

  Sleep, and dream of what became of the Dragonlord and the war

  with the dragons after the death of Kalestraan.

  Thelvyn Fox-Eyes had reluctantly agreed to become King of the Highlands, but only for the duration of the war that threatened. But the dragons had mistaken his actions as ambition, and so they had feared him all the more. They had laid siege to the city of Braejr in incredible numbers, thousands in all, and «ave every appearance of preparing for a final confrontation with the Dragonlord. But that battle never happened.

  Why not?

  Marthaen, the leader of the dragons, was too clever. He knew ihat the dragons could never hope to defeat the Dragonlord in battle, so he had sought to defeat the Dragonlord by other means. In the end, he had revealed secrets previously known only to the dragons themselves. Thelvyn Fox-Eyes, who had been chosen by the Immortals themselves to be the new Dragonlord, was himself a gold dragon in enchanted form and a cleric of the Great One, the Immortal patron of the dragons. And so the dragons achieved a form of victory. Mistakenly fearing that the Dragonlord sought power and conquest, they had made certain that all the other races and nations of the world would never trust the Dragonlord again.

  Dream, and in your dreams recall what became of the Dragonlord.

  Alessa honestly did not know. He had abdicated the thron
e of the Flaemish realm after only a short time, recommending that the rule of the king be replaced by the leadership of a council of representatives. In that way, he had broken forever the old struggle for power between the king, the dukes, and the Fire Wizards that had always been so detrimental to their land. Then Thelvyn had simply disappeared into the night, on a quest to break the spell that preyented him from becoming a dragon, eventually to fulfill his destiny among his own kind. Only the old, one-handed knight, Sir George Kirbey, his companion and mentor, had gone with him.

  The mysterious voice remained silent for a long moment, as if considering all that it had learned and formulating new plans accordingly. Alessa waited in the darkness and silence. Now that she no longer had the distraction of the questions, she had a brief time to think for herself. She was beginning to feel frightened once again, knowing that she was held by a will far stronger than her own. Even her mind was no longer her own, if her very memories could be so easily summoned forth for review. And now that she had been ensnared, she knew that she would not easily escape.

  Sleep, and do not fear, the voice told her. This was not a trap but the only means we had of speaking across the vast distances of time and space that separate us.

  "Who are you?" she dared to ask in return, only partly reassured.

  That was not for the moment important, she was told. All she needed to know at that time was that the mysterious speaker had ancient ties to her own people, having helped them in the past. The voice then proceeded to relate aspects of the history of the Flaem even she had never known, of events that occurred during their long age of wandering and of the enemies and the friends they had encountered along the way. It spoke to her of matters that touched her own heart, of the great antiquity of her people, of the power and authority and the deep pride they had once possessed. Would she not wish to recapture the power and the pride that the Flaem had once known? Such a question hardly needed to be asked; the Flaem thought of little else.