Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. II

by Richard A. Knaak

  “I am Keeper D’Kairn…” he remarked with a politeness belied by his wolfish visage. “.…and you are the drake, Morgis, son of the Dragon King, Blue.”

  The last was said with more than a hint of satisfaction and even more than a hint of teeth. D’Kairn’s teeth were not pointed, as Morgis had half-expected, but they looked as capable of biting through flesh and bone as any predator’s.

  This was the keeper, the Aramite sorcerer he and the others had been hunting. Unfortunately, no one had told them that not only did D’Kairn have an entourage—some eight scruffy soldiers that Morgis could count—but he also had access to magic strong enough to prevent the drake from assuming his natural form.

  “To answer an unspoken question, for days we knew that we were being pursued by fools. But we are far more appropriate in the roles of hunters and so you were allowed to pass, and we kept watch on you instead, waiting for the proper moment.” He stared into the crimson eyes of the beaten drake. “You were no match at all for a keeper.”

  “You are a keeper without teeth,” Morgis uttered to his captor. “Or should I say without a single tooth.”

  He had the pleasure of seeing D’Kairn’s dark eyes flash before the guards threw him back against the wall. Already softened by their earlier blows, Morgis felt the collision in every bone.

  The gloved keeper removed a tiny item from his belt pouch, holding it up for Morgis to see. The pale crystal, perhaps three inches in length, had been shaped to resemble a fang. When Morgis had first seen such an artifact, it had glowed brightly in its wielder’s palm. This one, however, had no life in it whatsoever.

  “I still bear the gift of my Lord Ravager,” snapped the sorcerer. “And one day it shall glow fiery again with his blessing…” He reluctantly put the crystal away. “.…but until that glorious day comes again, I have learned to make due with a different and, admittedly, interesting method of spellwork.”

  Morgis hardly cared about what sort of magic the keeper had picked up, but D’Kairn’s prattling garnered the drake warrior time to surreptitiously study the odds… and also try to determine what had happened to Kalena. “And what sort of spellwork have you turned to?”

  “Blood magic.”

  All thought of escape vanished as the two words sank in. Blood magic. Morgis suddenly recalled Kalena’s horrific tale of the skinned Gnor and the macabre appearance of her human partner. To the drake, it all fit somehow. Both had become part of some monstrous spell created by the fiendish figure before him.

  “Blood, you sssay? Didn’t spill enough in the name of your dog god?”

  Face an emotionless mask, D’Kairn reached up and pulled from beneath his breastplate a small necklace, the end of which was an ivory-colored stone encased in a silver band. The keeper gently stroked the stone.

  The tingling struck Morgis stronger this time. It was all he could do to keep from screaming. He tried to double over, but his guards refused to allow him even that minuscule relief.

  “You will refrain from further blasphemous expressions, dragon,” the lupine human commanded. “I want you alive—if not well—for the time being. You have some value to me.”

  “H-how fortunate.”

  “Not so much as you think. I have utilized the blood of men, of the cat people, of almost every race on this continent. Each offers power of a varying degree for a varying period of time.”

  “A Gnor w-would give you much, I sssuspect.”

  D’Kairn replaced the necklace within his breast plate, frowning. “Not as much as I would have imagined. The Syrryn actually provide much more.”

  Now it was Leonin who tried to reach the sorcerer. “You damned filth! I’ll—”

  The Aramite nearest Leonin struck him on the back of his head with a gauntleted hand. Morgis’s partner tumbled forward, groaning.

  Morgis hissed harshly, both in response to Leonin’s injury and D’Kairn’s horrific revelation. The Syrryn were bird folk.

  Awrak had been a Syrryn.

  “You will pay for that…” he muttered to the keeper.

  This brought a chuckle from D’Kairn, not a pretty sound or sight. “No, dragon… you will pay. You will pay for all that you did, all that the Gryphon did, all that brought forth the ruination of our empire and severed from those like me the wondrous link to our god! You will pay… and in the process you will help me restore what was ours!”

  Morgis had wondered how D’Kairn’s mind had survived so intact after so many of his brethren had lost theirs when the Gryphon had somehow broken their sorcerous ties to the Ravager. Now he understood that his captor’s sanity had not been spared. D’Kairn’s madness was of a different, more deadly sort.

  “All the magical power you can gather won’t help you regain your empire, Aramite,” the drake retorted. He indicated the handful of soldiers with the keeper. “And thessse will hardly be enough to police it for you.”

  “There will be more of them, dragon, and more keepers again! What I have learned is sufficient to spread to those of my brethren still surviving and each of us will then take on promising apprentices. The blood magic is fairly simple, once you know how best to draw it. I’ve had much time and many subjects, you know.”

  Kalena’s visage flashed before Morgis’s eyes, but he said nothing this time. He swore, though, that if D’Kairn had done to her as he had Awrak and the Gnor, the drake would see to it that the keeper met a like fate.

  Of course, first he had to escape.

  They were interrupted by two more raiders. Morgis’s anger deflated as he realized the odds were even more against him and Leonin. That made ten, in addition to D’Kairn. Even if they somehow managed to overcome the soldiers, the keeper still had some power left in his amulet, enough to keep Morgis from shapeshifting.

  “Well?” asked D’Kairn of the newcomers.

  “The bird’s disposed of, my lord,” one of them replied. “No sign of the cat, though.”

  The keeper shrugged. “No matter. Who will she run to?” He looked directly at Morgis. “We have what we want.”

  But the drake paid little mind to the danger to himself. The guards had given him some relief. Kalena had escaped D’Kairn’s foul work.

  The keeper snapped his fingers and the guards dragged Morgis over to Leonin. As they did, a husky Aramite with strands of graying hair thrusting out of the bottom of his helm went up to the lupine sorcerer.

  “I’ve got three men keeping watch out there now, my lord, but I’d be more comfortable with three more. Just in case there are more following these.”

  “As you wish, Captain D’Falc. Your attention to proper duty is commendable and will be recalled when we have taken back that which is ours.”

  As the burly captain picked out the three, D’Kairn stepped to an open area near one of the back rooms. The keeper crouched, then with a piece of chalk taken from a belt pouch, began drawing on the stone floor.

  “What’s he doin’?” whispered Leonin.

  “Preparing to take our blood…”

  Leonin spat to the side. “I’ll take his before I let him take mine.”

  Morgis felt the same, but neither were truly in a position to do anything. He watched with growing trepidation as D’Kairn worked on his pattern. The drake knew enough about magic and sorcery to understand that the keeper would draw their life forces from their dead bodies, transforming those forces into dark magic. The blood itself was simply the transport, the carrier of those forces.

  But what part did the skinning play?

  One of the soldiers that Morgis had earlier wounded approached the bound pair with bowls. The contents stank, but nonetheless the stomachs of Morgis and Leonin rumbled for lack of any recent meal.

  “Keep your mouth open and keep swallowing,” commanded the wolfhelmed figure.

  The hot, coarse contents flowed down Morgis’s gullet. The soup had the consistency of mud and nearly made him choke, but at the same time it strengthened the drake and cleared his weary mind.

  After they ha
d both been fed, the soldier gave them each a swig of water, then returned to the campfire. Around them, the other Aramites ate their own meals.

  “I thought they were going to kill us,” Leonin remarked. “Why feed us? Makes no sense.”

  “The ssstronger we are, the ssstronger our blood. D’Kairn wishes usss to be in prime shape when he sssacrifices usss.”

  And it appeared that it would not be long before that happened. The sorcerer now had a complex array of patterns before him and looked quite satisfied. He put the chalk away, then pulled out the necklace.

  But at that moment, Captain D’Falc came rushing inside.

  “My lord! None of the three guards are at their posts and there’s no sign as to where they might’ve gone!”

  “What of those you led out?”

  “Just outside, guarding the entrance in case of attack!”

  D’Kairn nodded, satisfied with the measure, then eyed Morgis and Leonin. “I thought we had verified that these two and the Syrryn were the only ones.”

  “Them and the cat, my lord.”

  “Yes… her. Her kind are born predators, aren’t they? She may have decided to stay around after all. No doubt took the men one-by-one from behind. I appear to have underestimated the little vixen.”

  “I’ll lead a patrol…” The captain’s fist squeezed tight, as if already holding Kalena by the throat.

  “No, I will lead the patrol. I have no time for any more petty interruptions. We shall track down the cat promptly and add her to the collection.” He gave the two prisoners a savage smile. “The more the merrier, eh?”

  D’Falc chose six men to come with them, leaving the remaining three to watch Morgis and Leonin. The hunting pack seized torches, then followed the keeper and the captain out.

  Leonin immediately began struggling at his bonds, which rewarded him with a slap to the cheek by one of the guards.

  “Don’t move again!” snapped the Aramite. “And no talking, either!”

  Although they obeyed the latter, Morgis and his companion shared eye contact. The disappearance of the three sentries gave them hope, but how long could Kalena remain hidden from D’Kairn’s sorcery? Morgis was glad that she lived and admired her attempt to save them, but he feared that she would yet share her partners’ fate unless she abandoned her rescue mission.

  The minutes dragged by. The howling wind added to the tension. Occasionally, unidentifiable noises would stir up both the prisoners and their captors.

  Then, a slight scraping caught Morgis’s attention. Making certain that the guards did not notice his true reason, he stretched his neck as if trying to work the tightened muscles.

  Above him, peering over the upstairs rail, a cloaked Kalena studied the tableau below her.

  She noticed him watching her in turn and smiled. Morgis tipped his head to the side, a signal for her to depart the keep before the Aramites noticed her. Kalena, though, ignored his silent command, instead eyeing the movements of the three guards.

  Fool of a girl! the drake wanted to shout. Run! Save yourself!

  It was one thing to use her feline hunting skills to sneak up on individual sentries, but another to try to take three armed and armored men—never mind that one was wounded—in a place like this. The Aramites had not conquered a continent and become the fearsome legend that they were because of ineptitude. Even the Dragon Kings, separated from the wolf raiders by an ocean, had given them much respect, even dealing with them as they had no other humans.

  The guards remained oblivious to her presence. One watched the front entrance while another stood near the prisoners. The injured one cleared away the remnants of the meal.

  Kalena stepped to her right, apparently seeking a better venue in which to study all three. As she moved, however, her feet, all but hidden by the cloak, stirred up a small bit of dirt and dust.

  The trickle of falling sediment made the injured soldier glance up in mild curiosity.

  “There!” he roared. “Up there!”

  The other pair instinctively reacted, rushing the stairway with weapons drawn. Eyes wide, Kalena hesitated, clearly stunned by what she had done.

  “Run!” Morgis shouted. “Run!”

  His cries stirred her to action. She fled down the hall and out of sight. The wolf raiders, however, were already more than halfway up and closing.

  Brandishing his sword, the remaining Aramite angrily approached the drake. “Be silent you! I’ll—”

  But as he neared, Leonin, who had remained subdued all this time, pushed himself up on his feet and charged into the guard.

  They collided with a heavy thud and despite Leonin’s tied hands, he managed to bowl over their captor. The two fell in a desperate jumble, the guard’s helmet rolling away.

  Morgis was right behind him. Also unable to use his arms, he came around the Aramite and kicked at the other’s now-unprotected head.

  With a groan, the Aramite stilled.

  “Can you reach his sword or dagger?” the drake asked of his comrade.

  “The dagger would be better! And if I can’t, nobody—aah! You see? Turn around!”

  Turning away from Leonin, Morgis waited tensely. Behind him, he could picture the human, his own back to that of the larger drake, trying to sever Morgis’s bonds with the procured blade. With Leonin’s own wrists still tied, the work was difficult. Morgis expected the other guards to return before the deed was done, but at last the bonds loosened, finally falling to the floor.

  Spinning around, the towering drake dealth with Leonin’s ropes, then seized the sword dropped by the Aramite. His companion hurried to where the wolf raiders had deposited the captured weapons, locating his own beloved blade.

  “We go after Kalena?” Leonin asked.

  In response, Morgis simply headed toward the stairway. The cat woman had risked herself for them when escape had already been hers; they could do no less.

  He had no doubt that with her claws she had climbed up the back of the crumbling structure and in through a window, but doing so in secret was a lot easier than trying to descend safely while being pursued. At the very least, if they chose not to follow her, the Aramites would drop whatever they could on top of Kalena, more than likely ensuring her death.

  He and Leonin paused at the top of the steps. “I don’t hear anything,” the human declared anxiously. “Do you think—”

  “We can only hope not.”

  They entered the room where they had last seen the Aramites heading. The chamber was so dark that even Morgis, who could see better at night than Leonin, could not even make out the back of his own hand.

  “We need light, Morgis. I’d better grab a torch.”

  “It would not be good to separate—”

  The bearded fighter backed out of the darkened chamber. “They’re still out searching the landscape. I won’t be a moment.”

  The drake hissed. “Just flee, Leonin. Take your horssse and ride fassst! Alert others to what we found!”

  “And leave the reward for our friend D’Kairn all for you? I’ll be right back! You do what you can, all right?”

  Nodding wordlessly, Morgis watched his partner hurry down the hall, then turned to confront the darkness again. Kalena and her captors had to have gone this way. But where were they then?

  As he stepped cautiously into the room, it seemed to get even murkier. A chill wind coming from well ahead wrapped around him, making the drake hiss again. An uneasy feeling crept over him.

  His foot struck something solid.

  Morgis bent down and felt for the obstruction with his free hand—then pulled the hand away when it immediately touched a hard yet ominously-moist surface.

  A body.

  V

  HIS FIRST REACTION was to think of Kalena, but then common sense reminded him of the hard shell he had felt. His estimation of the cat woman grew by leaps and bounds. Now she had managed to slay yet another of their foes.

  But that still did not answer the question of where she was now. />
  Wiping his hand as best he could, Morgis stepped beyond the body, seeking the source of the wind. He found it a few seconds later, a wide, shaded window opening into the pitch-black night. Again it struck him that the room was uncommonly dark, for the window, despite the decrepit shade, should have been obvious.

  Pushing it open, the drake peered down, seeking some sign of Kalena.

  Only then did he hear movement behind him.

  “Leoni—”

  “Die, monster!” roared a voice on the edge of insanity. “Die, damn you!”

  An armored body struck Morgis with such force that the scaled knight tumbled out the window. As he fell, though, he reached back to grab something, anything—and took his attacker with him.

  Morgis’s sense of direction vanished utterly. He heard the Aramite cry out. One arm struck stone and with what strength he could muster, Morgis seized a jutting piece and held on.

  He swung back and forth like some mad pendulum, the strain on his shoulder almost too much. Desperately he reached with his other hand, trying to find some hold there. In his present form, he was subject to many of the risks of humans. A fall from this height might not kill him, but it would certainly shatter his bones.

  From below came a harsh thud.

  Spurred on by the wolf raider’s fate, Morgis finally located something for his other hand to grab. Still dangling, he tried to judge whether he had better hopes of climbing up or down.

  The stone he had first seized made his decision for him, abruptly crumbling. Caught offguard, Morgis nearly plunged to his death. Instead, what remaining grip he had with his other hand gave him just enough time to locate another hold lower down.

  Brute strength and luck had saved him so far, but the drake had no intention of trusting either to last much longer. Finding some stable if still precarious footing, he lowered his other hand and, with a force no human could have mustered, dug his fingers into the aged wall of the structure.

  Repeating this risky act, Morgis managed to climb down more than half the distance to the ground. Each moment he expected either Leonin or the Aramites to find him, but the area was eerily silent.